The Head and the Heart
by B and M
Summary: A Michonne-centric rewrite of the events occuring after the group's arrival at Alexandria. Includes events from season 5B up to speculation for season 6B. (Canon/Slight AU)
1. Chapter 1

**You know, I expected to be writing a fic exploring the future of Richonne in an Anderson free world over the hiatus, but that didn't quite work out as planned now, did it? I still find myself sitting here thinking about all of the issues with this story like we have been since last spring, so I decided to revisit this material one last time. I wanted to see how things could have been had Michonne's arc had played out differently upon arriving in Alexandria. I'll be remixing a lot, totally scrapping some things, and adding in lots of new stuff for my take on this story. Hope you enjoy!**

"How'd the interview go?"

"Good, I think. It was pretty weird, though," Carl replied as he strolled alongside Michonne while pushing his sister in her newly gifted stroller.

They'd set off to explore the community as recommended by Deanna; a task she figured would take ten minutes at most given its small size.

"Weird how?"

"Being filmed, sitting in that room that felt more like a library than a house, the questions, all of it...it was just weird."

"Yeah, it was a pretty surreal experience when you put it that way. What'd you talk about?"

Michonne looked up from Carl time to time to take in the surroundings as instructed, although, she was far more interested in how he was handling things so far. When she did look up, shed catch sight of people milling about outside, but keeping a distance from her group, just giving a tight grin or a small wave, but never approaching them.

"She asked where I'm from and how I used to like school. What my favorite subjects were, what I did for fun. She asked about everyone in the group, too...what I thought about them."

"You told her all good things, right?"

"Pretty much. I vouched for everyone. Told her I wasn't so sure about you, though, so she may want to keep an eye on you..."

Michonne glanced sideways at his comment to find him looking up at her, his face mostly obscured by the rim of his sheriff's hat save for the smirk peeking out from beneath it. She pushed the rim of his cap down to completely cover his face causing him to laugh.

"Thanks for that, pal..."

"Nah, I didn't really say that. You know we like you the best," he said nodding down at his sister to include her in his sentiment.

"Sometimes I wonder..." she deadpanned, giving him one last dose of grief over his little joke."So what do you think of this place so far?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that."

"Well, probably because everyone cares about how you're doing."

"I know, but how am I supposed to know yet? We just got here. How do they think I feel?" he said, exasperation coming through in his voice. "No offense," he added on quickly realizing he'd inadvertently griped at Michonne.

"None taken. I guarantee nobody else quite knows yet, so I'm not sure why we'd expect you to."

"I don't mean to sound down on it. This place is really nice and we definitely needed it, but I just need to a little more time, you know?"

"I know," she said as he reached over to squeeze his shoulder, as she often did.

As they rounded the corner, their newly assigned house came back into view no less than five minutes from when they started. She looked down at Carl and they wordlessly agreed to take a second lap around the block for lack of anything else to do. As they passed the house, she looked up to find Rick standing on the porch with Daryl, neither having taken the suggestion to go out and explore much to her disappointment. She tried to catch his eye, hoping to wave him over, but his gaze was fixed off in the distance, so she kept on walking, figuring they would catch him the next time around.

Just beyond their second assigned house, their new neighbor was in her driveway working on some kind of project Michonne couldn't quite make out. The petite blonde dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt was hunched over, sorting through a pile of scrap metal, mumbling to herself as she did. She finally popped up with a pipe in hand as Michonne was looking her way, and made eye contact. Michonne gave the same tight smile she'd received from the other neighbors all day since she'd been caught looking then averted her eyes down toward Judith for a quick distraction.

"Hey there," the blonde called out tentatively, but cheerfully after a moment. Michonne looked behind her to see their neighbor nervously smiling after them as she fiddled with the metal scrap in her hand. "Welcome!"

"Thank you," Michonne called back with a short nod before turning forward again wondering why a simple exchange with the neighbor seemed so awkward and arduous now. She considered turning back to make small talk, but decided to keep walking and find her another time. She shook her head, disappointed in herself, and looked ahead as she strolled down the middle of the street with the Grimes children. Every view she took in was backed by the corrugated metal that enclosed their community. _That's why_ , she thought to herself; everything that happened beyond those walls was the reason the simplest things were somehow the hardest things now.

"She asked about her." Carl's voice reached her ears, but she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Hmm?"

"Deanna. She asked about Mom. I told her all about what happened..."

"Carl..." Michonne said softly as she looked down at the boy whose eyes were focused on his sister.

"I just haven't talked about her in a long time. We never do."

"I'm sorry. You know you can talk to me whenever you-"

"Not you. I meant Dad. He never mentions her," he said finally looking up at Michonne.

"Does that bother you?"

"Sometimes. Especially on a day like today when she's on my mind more than usual."

"I'm sure he's thinking about her, too," she said as she rested her hand at the nape of his neck. "You should talk to him."

"Yeah..." he agreed as nodded his head before looking back up at her. "Have you been thinking about Andre?"

Michonne's face fell along with her heart for a moment at the sound of his name, a word she scarcely ever said or heard aloud.

"Of course. Every day, but definitely a little more than usual today. I wish he could be here with us now."

"It makes it hard to be completely happy."

"It's bittersweet, but I promise you that your mom would have wanted nothing more than for you to find a place like this. Somewhere you and Judes could be safe and happy. It's what I would have wanted for Andre no matter what it took. That's just how it works."

"I know," he assured her with a half-smile as he looked up at her.

"Of course you do, but knowing and feeling are two different things, and that's OK."

She tugged him into her side for a quick hug before letting her hand fall off of his back as they picked up their pace again, walking quietly as the heaviness of their conversation lingered. The sound of footsteps nearing them caused them both to look back to find Rick's pace slowing from a jog as he caught up with them.

"Hey," he greeted as he stopped just behind them.

"Hey," Carl answered.

"What do you think of the place so far?" he asked, his attention still directed at his son.

Michonne and Carl looked as each other, grinning at the question, before they looked back at Rick whose eyes oscillated between the two of them as he watched their exchange.

"It's nice...I like it," Carl answered affirmatively. Michonne wondered if their conversation had changed his perspective or if he was just saying it for his father's benefit.

"Good," Rick said nodding. "Mind if I join you?"

Carl and Michonne answered by widening the space between them so that Rick could slip in, and the foursome continued down the street walking in a comfortable silence as they'd done so many times before out on the road. Michonne looked down at Judith, whose eyes were cast up to the clear blue sky, mesmerized by something; possibly the color, passing clouds, or birds flying by; all things that were novel considering she'd spent the better part of the past two months out in the woods with only the dense, leafy cover of the forest ceiling to keep her attention.

"Excuse me!"

Rick, Michonne, and Carl slowed to a stop, and looked over at the older couple standing on their front porch flagging them down.

"I know we're supposed to let you folks be, but we couldn't watch you pass by one more time without saying hello," the man called out. His wife tugged on his arm and whispered something in his ear. "And of course getting a look at that precious little one," he added.

Carl and Michonne looked to Rick before answering suspecting that if one of the three of them had an objection, it would likely be him.

"Hello," he said nodding at the couple. "Rick, Carl, Judith, and Michonne," he said pointing to each of them as he introduced the group from where they stood at the curb.

"Bob and Natalie Miller," the man said.

"Nice to meet you," Rick answered. "Carl. Judith. Why don't you go on up and say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Miller?" Rick said as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

Carl obliged and lifted his sister out of her stroller, rested her on his hip, and headed up the walkway to join the older couple on their porch. They bent down to Judith's eye level and began to fawn over the little girl. Carl looked out to the Rick and Michonne, and shrugged his shoulders as he realized that he was pretty much invisible next to his sister. Michonne smiled back then looked up at Rick who was watching Carl and Judith like a hawk.

"They're OK," she said sensing his uneasiness.

"I know," he said looking away from his kids for a moment to glance down at Michonne. She was looking at him intently with a small smile on her face that made him even more uneasy. "What?"

"Nothing," she said shaking her head, slightly embarrassed for looking a little too long as she took the new look he was sporting since the last time she'd seen him just a few hours before. "It's just...I've never seen your face like this before," she said with a shy smile.

He let out a short laugh, as he ran his hand over his clean shaven face. "That's what I said before _and_ after."

She smiled at his self-deprecating humor as their eyes lingered on each other's for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked over to his children on the porch.

"OK, meetin' time's over," he said to himself as he stepped up onto the curb to make his way to the porch before Michonne's hand grazed his forearm. He stopped in place and turned to look back at her.

"You should talk to him," she said quietly.

"Carl?" he asked as he glanced up at his son. She nodded yes. "Is he OK?"

"Yeah, but just... _talk_."

Rick stared back at her and nodded, taking her advice seriously, as always. She then turned to leave herself which surprised him.

"You're not stickin' around?"

"No, I've seen all I need to see for today, but you should you should go on. I'm gonna head home, see if I can finally get dibs on the shower."

He nodded in agreement and watched her walk off before heading up the path to the Millers' house to reclaim his children.

xxxxx

Michonne turned her head to the right where it rested on her pillow in order to look out the nearest window for the first signs of sunrise that would signal the start of her day as it had for the past two years. The shades proved to be too effective at blocking the light, however, so she looked at the clock above the mantle which read 6:25 AM. _Close enough_ , she thought, as she raised herself to a seated position and looked out over the sea of sleeping people scattered across the living room noticing only one face missing from the bunch. She quietly stood and tiptoed her way through the maze of pillows, blankets, and bodies to retrieve her uniform from the kitchen table then headed up the stairs to find a private place to change.

As she reached the top, she heard the shower running and smiled to herself. Almost two months without a proper shower, and now twice in less than twenty four hours? She'd have to remember that next time he teased her about brushing her teeth for so long. She made her way into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her then laid her uniform out on the bed and peeled off her tank. She tossed it onto the bed then came to a standstill.

Deanna had stopped by the night before to check in on the group and give work assignments. Before leaving, she asked Rick and her to step outside for a moment where she informed them that she'd like for them to serve as co-constables of the community. She and Rick exchanged a look and he gave her a small nod that he was on board so she accepted. Deanna gave them uniforms and asked them to report to duty at her house the following morning at 8:00 AM.

As she stared down at the uniform, she couldn't explain why she had so readily accepted the position the night before. She certainly had the skills it took to be a constable, but in reality, she had the skills to do just about any job in the community with the exception of being a doctor given her lack of specialized training. So why this then, she wondered? Because someone else thinks it's what's best for me? Because it comes so naturally now to align myself with Rick? She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as she looked down at the uniform.

"This isn't me," she whispered aloud as she walked over to the closet and opened the door.

She flipped through the few options available and found an ivory silk blouse that she pulled off of the hanger. She slid her arms into it then walked over to the full length mirror to take a look as she finished buttoning it up. It was loose, but not terrible, so she tucked it into her black leather pants, then bloused it out a bit hoping that would help; but it didn't do much, so she began to untuck it then stopped leaving just the front in and the tail hanging out. She rolled her sleeves up and smoothed the blouse down with her hands, knowing this was as close as she'd be getting to business casual in the apocalypse.

She pulled off the headband she'd fashioned from the remnants of a Missoni scarf and looked at it as she held it in her hand. She'd bought that scarf with money from her first paycheck as a lawyer, and it had become her signature piece. She'd wear it to add interest to otherwise boring suits for work, with jeans and a white tee on the weekends, or even just tied around the handle of her tote. Graduating from law school and landing a great job was certainly an accomplishment, but one that, based on her intelligence and drive, was just expected of her by herself and others. Being successful was a foregone conclusion, and she found it hard to celebrate her achievements when she always had her eye on the next one. This scarf was a rare indulgence, a symbol of making it and a reminder that she was allowed to celebrate her success from time to time. The remains of the scarf and her gold necklace were the only things she had from _before_ , and they had become precious to her as their meaning had changed; they were now reminders of a life that was no more, and of people that were no longer with her.

She pulled her locks back into a low ponytail and tied the headband around then to hold it in place. She popped into the bathroom to rinse off her face and brush her teeth then quietly headed down the stairs and out the door. She walked briskly to the brick town home that sat in the center of the community and walked up the steps, pausing for a moment to collect herself before knocking at the door.

Within a few seconds, the door opened to reveal Reg already dressed for the day in his khaki slacks, plaid button down shirt, and grey sweater jacket; the look completed with his ever-present kind eyes and smile.

"Michonne. Good morning," he said warmly before glancing behind him. "Deanna's not quite ready yet, but please come in."

"Good morning. I'm early, I know. I was just hoping to catch her before our scheduled meeting."

"I'm sure she won't mind. Have a cup of coffee with me while you wait?"

He stepped aside to let Michonne in, and she smiled as she walked past him into the foyer where she waited as he closed the door then paused at the bottom of the stairs.

"Honey!" he called up. "Michonne is here to see you. We'll be in the kitchen."

Instead of a response, the sound of hurried footsteps came rushing towards them, and Deanna appeared within seconds, fully made up and dressed.

"Michonne!" she said in lieu of a greeting. "I wasn't expecting you yet."

"I know, and I apologize for dropping in unannounced like this, but I was just hoping to chat for a bit."

"It's no problem at all, dear. Come."

Deanna stepped in front of her and led her to the kitchen where they took a seat at the small table. Reg soon joined them with some mugs and the coffee pot. Deanna poured a serving for Michonne and herself, then clasped her hands in front of her on the table and gave Michonne her full attention.

"So what's on your mind, Michonne?"

"Well, I thought a lot about the position you assigned me last night, and I think my skills could be utilized to better serve the community in a different capacity."

"I see."

"Putting the former sheriff and lawyer in charge of security makes perfect sense on paper, but I wasn't a criminal lawyer. It doesn't necessarily play to my strengths."

"Well, those weren't my only reasons, but I can see where you're coming from. What is it you'd like to do instead?"

"I'd like be involved in community planning. Enhancing the systems we have in place, developing new ones, writing codes someday..."

"I've already given that position to Maggie, though."

"I understand, and I'm not asking you to change anything. I'm asking if I can work with you, as well."

"Why?"

"Because this is plays to my skills as a lawyer, I-"

"But why, Michonne?" she pushed.

Michonne paused, and swallowed as she tried to formulate the most honest, succinct answer in her head.

"Because we need this place to work."

"Do you not trust me? Maggie?"

"That's not it at all, but I do think that we all have blind spots, and we stand to learn from each other if we work together."

"Give me an example."

"Well...the constable position, for example. Although your decision seemed logical, I never would have filled those positions with two new members." Michonne watched as Deanna sat back in her chair, her eyes wide with surprise at her candor. "You put Rick with one of your long standing community members, and you've not only given the appearance of equality among the two groups, but you've instituted your own system of checks and balances within the force. You'll have someone with experience and knowledge within the walls and outside of the walls looking after the community which only stands to make us stronger."

Deanna straightened up in her chair then looked over at Reg, and back at Michonne with a grin.

"That's smart, Michonne. Self-serving, but smart."

"It's just what came to mind first..." Michonne said sheepishly.

"Did you discuss this with Rick?"

"No. I wanted to speak with you first, see if it was even a possibility."

"Should I break the news or will you?"

"I will," Michonne said without hesitation.

"Very good," Deanna said before taking a sip of coffee while continuing to study Michonne's face. "You already had my attention, but you've piqued my interest even more this morning. Maggie is young, bright, and eager to learn; but she doesn't have the experience that you do. She'll stay on as my assistant, but I think there might be a place for you. I want you to go out, meet people, get a feel for what we have and what we do, then report back to me with your ideas. I want to see what else you come up with. Does that sound fair?"

"Absolutely."

xxxx

"Was about to put out an APB for a missing person on you."

Michonne looked up to find Rick rounding the street corner, walking toward her dressed in full constable uniform.

"You know I've heard that a million times on TV, but I don't have a clue what it stands for," she said with a grin and they took a few more steps before stopping in front of each other.

"All points bulletin," he said grinning back at her. He stood with his thumbs hooked into his front pockets, pushing his windbreaker back from his hips just slightly.

"Right...some kind of cop I'd be..."

"I have faith you'd pick up that stuff up in no time."

"Mmm."

She'd opted for a sound over a real response. He seemed far more relaxed this morning than he had the day before, and she found herself wanting to remain in this moment just a little while longer before changing the conversation because it felt good to see him like this; to be around him when he was like this. Her eyes softened as she looked at him looking back at her during the short lull in their conversation. She watched as his eyes trail down from her face to her chest before they settled back on her face.

"You look..." he trailed off, hesitating before landing on the right word, "nice."

Michonne tilted her head and paused for a moment, thinking how strange those words sounded coming out of his mouth. They'd teased each out about smelling horrible or looking awful before, but she'd never been on the receiving end of a compliment like that from him.

"Thanks," she said as she looked down and ran her hand over the front of the blouse that had caught his attention. As she looked up, she found his eyes still focused on her face, seemingly studying her.

"Where were you just now?"

"I was at Deanna's."

"Everything OK?"

"Yeah...it is, but there's something we need to discuss."

"I figured as much," he said as he brought his hand up out of habit to scratch the beard that was no longer there.

"I was doing some thinking, and I feel like my skills might be put to better use in another position in the community."

"Doing what?"

"Working with Deanna. Special projects," she said confidently.

She watched has he dropped his head then looked back up at her, nodding slowly. He didn't even need to speak because she could imagine him grumbling about _special projects_ in her head, and she couldn't blame him. It sounded like some hollow pre-apocalyptic job that didn't mean much back then never mind now.

"Michonne, we've been given the opportunity to oversee the security of this place. If it's not safe, none of this other stuff matters."

"But it _is_ safe inside. Outside is another story, and I can work with you on that, but inside? You know it's not going to require both of us. I have a good feeling about this place."

"Well, I hope you're right," he retorted.

Michonne frowned at his challenge and took a step in closer to him as she folded her arms across her chest. She looked around her quickly to make sure that they were still the only two people around before speaking.

"Look," she started in a hushed voice, tilting her head as she spoke. "You and I sharing the same position limits us. With you heading up security and me having my hand in a variety of community matters, we can keep our eye on almost every aspect of this community. It gives us greater access and influence over what goes on here."

Her eyes stayed fixed on Rick's face as he stared back at her wordlessly for a moment before a smirk erupted on his lips as he let out a short laugh.

"That what you told her this morning?"

"Of course not," she scoffed as she knitted her brow and pulled her head back.

"Probably for the best because it sounds like you're trying to take this place," he teased.

"I'm not..." she sighed and shook her head as she began to smile. "I just want this place to work, Rick, and I need to feel like I'm doing everything in my power to make that happen."

"I know," he said sincerely. "And it makes a lot of sense. Really. Like most everything you say does..."

She nodded and stepped back from him, turning out toward the street to take in the sleepy community that was finally starting to show signs of life with people leaving their houses to report to their assignments.

"So what's your first order of business today?" Rick asked as he turned out toward the community, as well.

"Deanna wants me to walk around. Meet people. Start to come up with a list of possible projects and improvements. How about you?"

"Pretty much the same. Get some face time with the neighbors, start patrolling."

"Which way you headed first?" she asked looking over at him.

He looked to his left then right, not seeing a compelling reason to choose one over the other, so he shrugged his shoulders and pointed left.

"I'll go that way then," she said pointing to her right as she started to backpedal in that direction. "See you back at the house later?"

"Yeah. I'll see you then," he said as he gave her a wave. She smiled back then turned on her heel and headed off to start her rounds.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to those who left lovely reviews for the last update. Publishing the first chapter of a new story is always nerve-wracking, so I appreciate your support! Guest (whoever you are!)-special thanks to you for your thoughtful review-some of what you said made me wonder if you had a peek at my outline. Interesting comment about compliments. ;)**

 **Just two things before you read this update: Yes, this is still Michonne-focused, and I only promised to remix the story, not make it squeaky clean. Hope you enjoy!**

"Come in."

Michonne opened the door to the house that served as the community's infirmary and peeked around the corner to find Rosita seated in a stool at the kitchen island all by herself, chin resting on her hands as she focused intently at something in front of her on the counter.

"Hey," Michonne said gingerly as she stepped into the infirmary and closed the door behind her.

"Hey," Rosita replied, finally looking up at the sound of a familiar voice.

"How's it going?"

"Fine. Just catching up on my reading..." she said as she lifted up the April 2009 issue of _Cosmopolitan_ for Michonne's benefit. " _11 Awesome Things You Can Do With Long Hair During Sex_ ," she said with a smirk and mocking tone in her voice.

"You're lying."

"Nope. Number one? _Drag it over his head like a sexy car wash_."

"Or not...what does that even mean? Let me see that," she demanded as she slid into the stool next to Rosita to see the article with her own eyes. She read two sentences before she pushed it away, seeing all she needed to see.

"I can't figure out whether this article is that ridiculous or it just seems that way because we're that of touch with the way things were. This was the kind of stuff we worried about?" Rosita mused as she leaned back in her chair.

"Things have changed, but I'm pretty sure we'd have been rolling our eyes at this stuff back then, too."

"God, I hope so. I'd kind of want to punch old me in the face if that wasn't the case," she said with a laugh. "Anyway, what's going on? You OK?"

"Yeah. I just came by to meet the doctor and see if I could get a tour of the infirmary."

"Pete stepped out about twenty minutes ago. Said he had to run an errand or something. He didn't say when he'd be back."

"I guess I'll just keep making my rounds and check in later then."

"Sure you don't want to stay and hang out? I've got plenty to keep us entertained," Rosita said with a grin as she pointed to the stack of assorted old magazines in the corner.

"As tempting as that sounds, I can't. I'm supposed to be out meeting everyone and getting a feel for this place."

"Just you? Where's Rick?"

"He's out patrolling..." Michonne hesitated for a second before continuing. "I got reassigned, actually. I'll be working with Deanna and Maggie.

"Really?" Rosita asked with genuine surprise in her voice and concern on her face that caught Michonne off guard.

The door opened before Michonne could answer, though, and both women turned their attention to the tall, lumbering blonde man who stood in the open doorway just beyond the threshold, scanning the area in front of him for a moment.

"Rosita, I'm back," he said in a voice louder than necessary that boomed through the empty clinic.

"I'm right here," Rosita responded with pursed lips as she raised a hand in the air and slowly waved it back and forth to catch his attention. All of the warmth in her voice that she'd used when talking to Michonne had disappeared.

"Oh. Hi there," he said affably enough as he turned to see them.

"This is Michonne. She came in with my group, and she's working with Deanna."

"Pete. Nice to meet you," he said extending his right hand out to shake Michonne's.

"Nice to meet you, too. I was just telling Rosita that I stopped by hoping to get a better idea of how the infirmary works."

"How many of you are there again?" he asked as he squinted his eyes and scratched the side of his head.

"Fifteen."

"You know, you all really should get in here for check-ups after being out there so long. We can start with you first since you're here."

"I've got a lot on my agenda today, but I'll set up an appointment for another day and spread the word among our group. I just wanted to get a quick overview, if you don't mind."

"It only takes a few minutes. You'll probably get a better idea of what goes on here from the patient perspective."

She frankly didn't want to do this today, but she also considered that it was a necessary part of assimilating, so in the spirit of embracing this community decided to say _yes_ and get it over with.

"Great. Rosita, can you get her vitals then have her take a seat over there while I gather my things?"

Rosita nodded then looked to Michonne to make sure she was really on board with this before leading her over to the scale to take her weight and height then to the exam table where she prepared to take her blood pressure manually, a skill she was still trying to master as she fiddled with the stethoscope and cuff. Michonne gave Rosita her right arm, and coolly watched Pete fumble around the kitchen as he shuffled through some papers, seemingly displeased with something as he muttered to himself and started going through the cabinets. He let one slam shut accidentally, the loud sound causing Michonne to flinch which caused a spike in the reading and forced Rosita to restart the process.

He was certainly odd, then again, she knew several highly intelligent people who didn't shine in social situations. He finally gathered what he needed and pushed a rolling stool in front of her just as Rosita finished with her measurements. She jotted the numbers down on a Post-It note and handed it over to him for review. He nodded as he read the information then stuck it to his notes, looked up at Michonne and smiled. She grinned back, waiting for him to begin the physical; but he sat there looking up at her with her file balanced on his left knee and a pen in his right hand, holding his smile longer that what felt normal or necessary before he finally commenced.

"So what's your date of birth, Michonne?"

"September 5, 1978."

"Any medical problems?"

"No."

"Surgeries?"

"Just a tonsillectomy when I was five."

"Any major medical problems run in the family?"

"High blood pressure on my mother's side," she answered immediately before pausing to run through the rest of her relatives in her mind, "but that's about it."

"Any allergies to foods or medicine?"

"None."

"And are you taking any medications?"

"Nope," she answered wondering if he found her uneventful medical history as boring as she did.

"No vitamins, supplements, birth control? People always forget to include those."

She glanced beyond his shoulder and caught Rosita's eye, the smirk on her face causing Michonne to break.

"We've been out wandering around in the woods for almost two months. How would we have access to any of that?" Michonne joked good naturedly with a small laugh.

"I understand, but these are standard questions. Just doing my job."

"Sorry," Michonne apologized before regaining her composure. "No, no vitamins. I do have an IUD, though. I guess you'd count that."

"I would. See? Like I said, people always forget to include those things...Made my wife get one of those. Can't afford to have any more kids with things the way they are now," he said off handedly as he looked down, scribbling notes in her chart.

The word _made_ instantly made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and the fact that she now knew her neighbor-two-doors-down's birth control method through no admission of her own didn't sit well with her. Her face tightened as she watched him finish charting, wondering if he would correct himself, but he looked up and smiled awkwardly, continuing with his interview.

"Ever been pregnant?"

"Do you mind if I stop to ask you something about the process? Just for my own understanding?"

"Not at all."

"What's the point of these exams?"

"It's screening. Preventative health."

"And let's say you were to find something, do you have the resources to do anything about it?" she questioned further causing his smile to fade.

"Well, if it's something simple like high blood pressure, yes. We have medications on hand that I can prescribe. But no, I don't have the capacity to run lab tests or do imaging studies, so there are certainly limitations to what we can find and treat. In the case of your people, though, I'd want to make sure that you're not bringing in any infectious diseases from the outside that could spread here. I imagine it's going to feel like practicing medicine a hundred years ago with diseases like tuberculosis becoming common again."

He spoke with an odd affect, she thought, slowly pushing his words through clenched teeth as if forming his sentences took such great effort; or perhaps it was the attempt to conceal his annoyance with her line of questioning that took so much effort.

"So why don't we just focus on that today?" she asked.

"Sure..."

xxxxx

"Hey Rick!"

Rick looked over to find Jessie walking out of her garage to greet him, so he stopped and walked halfway up the short driveway to where she stood.

"Morning, Jessie. How's it going?"

"Not too bad. Just organizing the garage...again," she said with a self-conscious laugh. "It's like a monthly project for me. I'm not sure how we accumulate so much junk, but we do."

"Yeah," he answered as he glanced back at the garage that looked relatively clean to him.

"So you're going back to your old look, huh?"

He started at her blankly for a moment. "What's that?"

"The um...the stubble," she stammered as she pointed at the result of two day's going without shaving on his face.

"Right," he said with a forced smile to make her feel at ease. Old look, new look; he wasn't even sure what that meant anymore.

"Not that it looks bad or anything..." she continued to stammer as she shook her head and looked down at the ground in embarrassment.

He grinned and looked down, as well, feeling his cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment then waived his hand to signal that he thought nothing of it. They stood there quietly for a moment before she spoke up again, apparently always feeling the need to fill silence with words.

"I saw the Millers yesterday afternoon. They couldn't stop talking about Judith."

"Well, they met her for all of two minutes."

"Doesn't matter. It's been a long time since anyone around here has seen a baby. She's gonna have to put up with the extra attention and some pinched cheeks."

"I guess it's easy to forget that."

"They had twelve grandchildren before...everything," she said as she crinkled her nose and avoided naming the bad event. "They've become surrogate grandparents to all of the kids here. It could be a nice thing for your children, especially Judith since she probably never had the chance to..." she trailed off as she watched Rick avert his eyes and look upward sensing she'd said something wrong.

Judith would never know her mother, never mind her grandparents. She had someone in her life who served as a grandfather, though; a devoted, loving, wise man who cared for her as if she was his own, but he was no longer with them, and she was too young to remember the countless hours they spent together.

"It's a...it's a nice thought," he finally answered quietly.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is it's not just you anymore," referencing the words he'd said to her the first day she'd met him.

"It's not," he answered immediately as he furrowed his brow.

"Right." She gave a small smile at his response, feeling as though she had finally gotten her point across and assuming that he understood.

"I should probably get back to work," he said as he pointed his thumb to the street behind him.

"Me too. I'll see you around, Rick."

"See you," he said with a wave as he turned around and walked back to the street to continue his patrol.

As he walked, absently twisting the band on his left ring finger, the thoughts running through his mind were of people and places that looked far different than those that surrounded him now; smiling and carrying on in front of their perfect houses as the sun shown down on them on this clear, quiet day.

xxxxx

Rick stood on the front porch of his home, one hand resting on railing and the other arm slung under Judith's bottom as she leaned against his chest looking out into their front yard pointing and babbling about whatever came into her view.

"What's that? You see a dog? Yeah," he whispered as they watched one of their neighbors walk by with her brown lab.

Unless interrupted by his daughter, however, his eyes were focused solely on Carl where he sat in the grass on the other side of the lake talking with two boys and a girl around his age. Even within the confines of the walls, the most secure place they'd been since the prison, a place he personally patrols daily now, he had trouble letting go.

It reminded him of the first time he and Lori had let Carl ride his bike to school, giving him a head start then following slowly behind him in his squad car to make sure he arrived. Or the night of his first sleep over where they fell asleep on the couch in their clothes waiting for the call to pick him up in the middle of the night that never came. It made no sense to feel this way given everything he and Carl had been through, but he couldn't quite get through to himself on this one, so he continued looking out across the lake until Maggie and Michonne came into his view as the they rounded the corner, heading towards their respective houses. They were deep in conversation, Maggie listening in as Michonne spoke, making a square with her hands then gesturing to create a visual of whatever she was talking about for Maggie's benefit.

"You see Michonne? And Maggie?" whispered to Judith, as he pointed to the two women approaching them. The baby looked in their direction and lit up at the sight of the two familiar faces, and once the women caught sight of her, they did the same.

"Hey cutie pie!" Maggie called out as she waved at the little girl. "Hey Rick," she added.

He waved back and watched as they said their good byes then as Michonne walked up the path and ascended the steps to join him on the porch.

"Hey," she greeted as she came to stand next to him, facing forward to mirror his position.

"Hey."

"What are you two up to?"

"Just hangin' out. Stayin' out of Carol's way so she can finish makin' dinner."

"I see," she said as she looked down at Judith then out toward the community again. "How was your day?"

"Quiet."

"Well, quiet's good, right?"

"No, it's just quiet," he replied evenly. "How about yours?"

"Pretty much the same. Met with more people, worked on my list of proposals, stopped by the infirmary to check it out...speaking of, have you met Pete yet?"

"Jessie's husband?"

"The doctor, yeah," she confirmed.

"Only in passing a couple nights ago. Why?"

"Just wondering what your impression was."

"Hard to say," Rick lied. He thought the guy was a dick, but figured he was being overly sensitive and looking for problems where they didn't exist. "You have a run in with him or something?"

"No, nothing like that. He just gave me a weird vibe...I don't know. Maybe it's just me. I'll run it by Rosita since she works closely with."

"Sounds reasonable. I'll make it a point to stop by tomorrow, say hello."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's not a problem. What else am I gonna do?" he asked rhetorically as he began to lightly bounce Judith on his hip since she'd grown restless from being ignored as the two adults conversed.

"That reminds me, can we set up a time to talk tomorrow?"

Rick furrowed his brow, and angled his head toward Michonne. "Isn't that what we're doing right now?"

"Yes, but I'm talking about a proper meeting."

Rick dipped his head a little lower to meet her eyes with his, and stared back in annoyance. "About?"

"Security."

"Shouldn't that just be a talk between you and me? I thought we were gonna work together on that."

"We will, but Deanna has to be on board. And I'll make sure she gets there."

"Just to be clear, we're talking look outs, wall reinforcements, and arms training with the goal of everyone being able to carry inside the walls, right?"

"Basically, yes."

"What time do I need to be there?"

"Let's say 9:00 AM at Deanna's?"

Rick nodded his head slowly, still looking pained at the thought of attending a meeting, something he didn't miss at all from before. He looked away from Michonne to check back on Carl since he'd been distracted for the past few minutes. Michonne followed his gaze until she landed on the boy and his friends, as well, a smile forming on her face at the sight.

"When I walked by earlier, they were getting Carl up to speed on what they studied in history last week. I guess there's a test coming up in a few days," she said as she looked up at Rick who'd let a small grin form on his face.

"That's what they've been doing out there all afternoon?"

"I think so. What'd you think they were doing?" she asked sensing the relief in his voice.

"I don't even know."

"They seem like good kids."

"Yeah," he said quietly as he took in a deep breath through his nose, his grin fading as he exhaled.

Michonne watched him closely, feeling as though there was something he wasn't saying.

"You OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, just..." he trailed off and motioned to his head without actually answering her. Thinking? Tired? Distracted? She decided not to press now.

"Well, I'm gonna head inside. See if Carol needs any help. You want me to take her?" she asked looking down at Judith.

"No, it's OK. I'm gonna go grab Carl. We'll use it as an excuse to walk around the pond. Look for ducks and turtles," he said with a wink.

Michonne chuckled to herself because she and he both knew that neither of those existed out there, but she was sure the baby would appreciate the adventure anyway. She turned her body toward the door and lifted her hand to the back of Judith's head, letting it run over the golden curls at the nape of her neck then on to her father's shoulder, patting it gently before as she passed.

"I'll see you both in a bit," she said softly as she continued on to the door and let herself in.

Rick looked down at his daughter, and pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. "You ready to go for a little walk?" he asked.

As he turned to head down the steps, he heard the door open behind him not seconds after it had just closed.

"You decide you want to join us?" he asked as he looked back smiling to see Carol closing the door behind her before walking over to him.

"I just came out to tell you dinner would be ready in about five minutes."

"Well, we were just heading over to get Carl."

She glanced behind her before looking back at Rick with a disgruntled look that he assumed was for not being ready for dinner yet.

"Sorry?" he said indignantly. She rolled her eyes at his tone and folded her arms across her chest.

"Did you happen to notice the newest decoration at our place?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He glanced at the closest window, but nothing came to mind, so he shrugged and shook his head.

"The katana hanging over the fireplace? You didn't notice that?"

He looked back again, unable to get a clear view of the wall through the bamboo shades. "When did that happen?"

"Sometime since last night after we all went to bed?" Carol guessed, not trying to hide her disapproval as evidenced by her sharp tone. "I knew these people were weak," she said gesturing out of the community, "but I didn't expect them to bring our people down with them so quickly."

"This is Michonne you're talking about," Rick scoffed.

"I know. It's disappointing."

"You don't have to worry about her. I'm sure she has her reasons."

"All I know is that we can't be caught unprepared should something happen. I'm not going another day without our weapons."

"Deanna doesn't want that," Rick reminded her. "Not yet. We're gonna work on it."

"I know. But like I said, I'm not going another day without. In the armory, they've got a couple of footlockers just full of 9 millimeter autos, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. They lock it up at night, but there's a window right there with a latch on it. I can leave it open and sneak at night."

"A latch?" he asked, shaking his head incredulously at the poor excuse for security.

"Yeah."

"Why are you telling me this? You know I'm in a tough spot."

"Since when does that matter? I'm telling you because I know you, and we both know that it really can't be any other way," she said as she looked down at Judith and placed her hand on her head before letting it drop back down to her side. His eyes had followed her hand throughout its entire motion and were now cast downward as he considered her proposition.

"You think about it. Let me know tomorrow," she said with a forced smile. "Now go get Carl. I don't want dinner to get cold."


	3. Chapter 3

As Rick stood behind Maggie and Michonne on the steps of the Monroe town home waiting for Deanna to answer the door, he found himself staring at Michonne's back, or rather, the absence of what was there. He looked down to the ground and let his eyes travel upward until they became fixed on the same spot again. Same boots, same pants, but a snug plum colored sweater replaced her standard vest and tank top and hid her toned arms that were usually on display. Without the katana, she still had an air of authority and strength about her, but he'd never noticed how slight she actually was; how her slender back tapered down into her tiny waist.

"Well, look at you," Deanna said with a gasp and a wide smile as she opened the door to the threesome. "What a team I've got here. On time and good looking, to boot. I can only imagine how you'll look all dressed up tonight. Come in, come in," she instructed as she stepped aside to let them enter.

Rick followed behind Maggie and Michonne noticing how comfortable they already felt in Deanna's home as they headed into her kitchen and took a seat at the small table where a tea kettle sat on a trivet in center with four mugs and a box of tea bags next to it. The ladies began taking turns preparing their drinks while Rick stood in front of the empty seat watching and waiting.

"Oh, Michonne, Reg found a few more of the green jasmine teabags in the back of the cabinet the other day. I know how much you like that flavor."

Before Michonne could show her gratitude, Deanna had looked up to see Rick still standing.

"Rick," she said in a chiding tone. "Have a seat."

"I'm fine. I assumed we were heading out soon."

"Soon, but sit for now. Let's run through the agenda before we walk the grounds."

Michonne looked over her shoulder and met his eyes, then drew hers down to the empty space beside her, wordlessly imploring him to fall in line. He pulled the chair out, and sat stiffly in his seat which satisfied Deanna.

"That's better," she said addressing him with a smile before widening her focus to the rest of the table. "How was the rest of your evening yesterday?"

"Rosita, Tara, and I worked on sprucin' up the house again. We moved some of the furniture around, and hung some framed pictures we found in the garage. It's really coming along," Maggie answered first.

"Starting to feel like home?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That's wonderful," Deanna replied warmly before she turned her attention to Michonne. "And how about you Michonne?"

"Carol cooked a big meal for Rick, the kids, Daryl, and me, so we had a nice sit-down dinner. I helped Carl with some of his homework, and then I did some work before I went to sleep," she said ending the rundown of her quiet evening with a smile for Deanna's sake.

"And you, Rick?" Deanna asked.

"Pretty much the same as hers," he said flatly as he pointed his thumb at Michonne.

Michonne didn't need to look at him to know that he was losing patience with this exchange of pleasantries; out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hands fidgeting on the table and hear the irritation in his voice. She gave him a moment to mind his manners, and redirect the question to Deanna, but was met with silence.

"How was your evening, Deanna?" she asked.

"Oh, it was lovely. After dinner, Reg and I took a nice walk around the neighborhood then we went to the opera," she said breaking into a chuckle. "Or that's what we like to call it. We're on a bit of a Verdi kick right now, so we listened to a recording of Rigoletto, and it was perfection. Really," she said with a wistful smile as she recalled the evening as if she had actually been at the Kennedy Center the night before. "If you ever want to borrow any of our recordings, or better yet, if you want to come join us one evening, just say the word."

Michonne followed Deanna's line of vision directly to Rick whose eyebrows had crinkled ever so slightly at the suggestion, and she looked down and tried to stifle the grin that was threatening to form on her lips. She couldn't help being amused at the unbridled positivity Deanna was giving off in the face of Rick's dour mood.

"Thank you," he said with a nod.

Michonne took a sip of her tea and looked back and forth between Rick and Deanna before setting her mug down and fishing a piece of paper with handwritten bullet-points out of a file folder she had brought with her. She pushed the paper in Deanna's direction deciding it was time to get to business.

"So this is a very basic list of proposed security measures for the community that I put together last night; just a starting point, if you will," Michonne explained as Deanna began to peruse the list.

Given there were no copy machines or working printers, there was only one copy available. Rick peered across the table at the sheet in Deanna's hand then at Michonne who was focused on Deanna as she read through the points, silently mouthing the words as she did. He found it strange that he hadn't been involved in creating, or at least seeing, this document she had drafted by herself just down the hall from him last night.

"Well, I think, for the most part, these sound like reasonable precautions," she said as she pushed the paper back into the center of the table. "Reg has always been a proponent of fortifying and maintaining the walls, so you'll get no push back from us there."

Rick reached across and pulled the paper in front of him so that he could review it himself as Deanna continued to speak. He skimmed the list of familiar ideas, all as expected, until he reached the final item. He clenched his jaw and pushed the paper away from him, directing his attention, once again, to Michonne as she nodded along with Deanna's words.

"Can we talk about weapons in the community?" he inserted as soon as she came to a pause.

Michonne's relaxed demeanor faded as she turned her attention to Rick.

"Rick," Deanna sighed. "I know you think that we should all be armed within the walls, but I can't do that."

"You're gonna have to come around on that. These aren't suggestions or _reasonable precautions_ ," he said with a slight sneer as he quoted her, "these are necessary measures if you want to keep this place safe."

"We haven't had the need," she explained.

"Doesn't mean you won't," he retorted.

"I think we can all agree that there should be training," Michonne offered as she looked between the two of them, hoping to offer some common ground.

"Yes," Deanna agreed. "Training for those interested."

"For _everyone_ ," Rick insisted.

"We can't force people to do this," Deanna said in an almost pleading tone.

Michonne and Maggie met eyes across the table, each acknowledging the impending breakdown about to occur.

"You know," Maggie started with her sweet, even voice, "when I first met Rick, back at my daddy's farm, we were in a similar situation. We'd been lucky, hadn't had any problems, so some of us were reluctant, too. Rick and some of his people trained us the right way, and I'm grateful for that. These are just skills people need nowadays."

Deanna took in a deep breath and released a sigh as she nodded thoughtfully at Maggie.

"Same here," Michonne added as she looked to Deanna. "I didn't have much experience with guns. Rick, Daryl, Maggie...they taught me everything I know."

"I find that hard to believe," Deanna said skeptically as she looked at the woman she'd come to refer to in her head as _the samurai_.

"It's the truth," Michonne said with a soft smile as she narrowed her gaze at Deanna and leaned toward her. "You brought us here for a reason. Let us share what we've learned," she urged.

Deanna sighed again and looked at three faces staring back at her before she gave a firm nod.

"We'll start with the adults first-"

" _Everyone_ ," Rick stressed, cutting her off.

Deanna looked to Michonne who nodded in agreement with Rick.

"Fine," she relented. "Introductory lessons for everyone, with an option to opt out after a required number of sessions."

"I think that sounds fair," Michonne said with a nod to reassure Deanna before looking to Rick. He stared back at her blankly before relenting and giving his own nod of agreement.

"So that's settled. I trust you'll be patient with me and the others? It's not exactly my forte," Deanna returned with her typical humor and moxie, not looking beat up at all, but rather invigorated by their tough negotiation.

"Of course," Maggie answered with a grin.

"Why don't we head out now so you can show me some of your plans for the outside," she said as she pushed her chair back and stood.

Maggie, Michonne, and Rick followed suit and stood, as well. Rick waited to allow the three women to exit the kitchen before he started to walk behind them to the door. Maggie joined Deanna and engaged her in conversation about final plans for that evening's party as they set out to start their tour of the perimeter at the tower. Michonne paused on the doorstep to wait for Rick as he closed the door behind him. He turned to find himself almost face to face with her in the small space they shared on the stoop.

"We had to start with training, no matter what," she whispered as he peered down at her blankly, choosing not to agree or disagree. "We'll put our time into training them the right way. Slowly and safely. Once everyone gets used to handling weapons, and she gets more comfortable with the idea, she'll start to come around and we can revisit carrying weapons within the walls if we need to."

"If?"

Michonne shook her head up and down in response, bracing herself for the disapproval she could see on his face.

"You remember the prison, Michonne?" he asked as he cocked his head to one side, his voice laced with a sarcasm she'd heard him use with others time and time again, but never with her, at least not since their first encounter.

"Don't," she said calmly to counteract the mounting agitation on his end. "You're looking for trouble that isn't there."

"Am I? Can you say that with a hundred percent certainty?"

"Of course not, but even if there was, there's no way around it. These people aren't ready yet."

"And we won't be either," he explained, his tone and expression softening as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. "But we still have your sword. We still have that just in case things go south quick, right?"

Michonne furrowed her brow at the slight grin that formed on his face as he asked that question. Clearly he was aware of what she'd done with her sword, and she couldn't help but feel this was a subtle dig.

"It's close by if we need it. So are our guns," she answered begrudgingly as she broke her eyes away from his to seek out Deanna and Maggie who were well ahead of them by now and seemingly oblivious to their absence.

"Then we'll do it your way."

"This isn't my way. We're not in charge here."

He grunted and shrugged his shoulders indifferently in response then looked away from Michonne to seek out the other members of their party himself.

"We can finish this later. We need to go," Michonne suggested as she turned to take the first step down from the porch while he followed behind her.

xxxx

"So I've got all of the canned and jarred good organized alphabetically. Applesauce, beans," said the chipper voice as she pointed at the items lining the top shelf. "Then the beans are subcategorized, alphabetically of course: black beans, garbanzo beans, kidney beans, lima beans, navy beans. Soups are the same: chicken noodle, cream of celery, cream of chicken, cream of mushroom, tomato, vegetable..." The woman trailed off and turned to look at Michonne, smiling expectantly.

"It's impressive," she said as she motioned her hand toward the immaculately kept rows of products.

"Sorry I'm late, Olivia. I just...lost track of time."

Michonne and Olivia turned their attention to the blonde woman who had come barreling through the door with a busy, nervous energy that disrupted the quiet, controlled environment they were standing in.

"Oh, it's no problem! I was just showing Michonne around the food pantry. I was going to give her a tour of the armory next."

"I can do that if you want to take off."

"Shoot," Olivia muttered as she checked her watch, "it's almost 4:30. I actually do need to get home to check on my slow cooker." She turned toward Michonne to explain why she was going to have to pass her off to Jessie. "I've got a venison chili going with some meat Tobin shared with me. I'd hate to overcook it because it's not something I get my hands on too often."

Michonne pursed her lips and nodded in understanding, or at least what she hoped came off that way. She could think of worse things in the world than overcooked venison chili, but she'd also experienced much worse than any of these people had.

"Go on. I've got it," Jessie said as she waved her off.

"OK, just be sure to lock up afterwards. I'll see you both at Deanna's thing tonight?" she asked as she started toward the door.

"Yep," Michonne confirmed as she waved good bye.

"See you then!" She stopped once more as she placed her hand on the door knob. "Oh, Michonne, help yourself to something before you go. It's just a little something I do for all the new people, like a welcome gift."

"Thanks," she said with a smile before returning her attention to Jessie.

"So, um, where did she leave off?" she asked distractedly as she looked down, massaging her temples with her finger tips before running them through her hair to gather it into a ponytail, securing it with the rubber band around her wrist.

"Are you all right?" Michonne asked as she eyed the woman in front of her.

"Yeah, of course," Jessie said nonchalantly as she straightened up and took a deep breath in.

"We never met formally, by the way. Michonne." She brought her hand to her chest for emphasis before bringing the other arm up to meet it, folding them across her chest in an easy, relaxed stance.

"Jessie," she returned with a friendly, lopsided grin.

"Sorry I didn't stop by to say hello the other day..."

"No worries. We were supposed to give you all some space to get settled in, but it just didn't feel right," Jessie said with a as she scrunched her face and shrugged her shoulders in place of an apology.

"What were you working on?" Jessie tilted her head curiously as the question. "In the driveway," Michonne clarified.

"Oh, the scraps. I'm making an owl sculpture with my boys. We do lots of little projects to keep busy, take our minds off of things, you know?"

"I do. You and your boys are bringing back the found art movement," she joked with a bright smile.

"Hmm?"

Michonne chastised herself for Jessie's apparent confusion. _Again with the social awkwardness_ , she thought to herself, wondering when small talk would finally get easier.

"It's just the name for a style of art where people take unconventional objects and turn them into…well, art," she explained.

"Oh, Dev said that, too. He used a French word for it, though…"

" _Poubellisme_?"

"That's it. Only he said it meant _trash art_ or something?" she said with a laugh as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, technically that's right, but it's all the same. _Found art_ sounds nicer, though."

"Much nicer," Jessie agreed with a grin. "Have you met Dev yet?"

Michonne tilted her head in thought. So many of the new names and faces she'd encountered over the past couple of days were running together, but that one didn't ring a bell.

"No, I don't think so."

"He's not around much since he's on one of our run teams, but he dabbles in art projects in his spare time. He always picks up supplies on runs, so he shares what he finds with me and a few other people who are into crafting. He's actually been trying to get a group of us together to paint murals on some of the walls."

"Sounds like a nice idea. What's stopping him?"

"Just not enough interest. I'd love to help, but I can't seem to find the time."

"Really? Feels like we have nothing but time in here."

"Between taking care of my boys, my husband, work...it's just hard to get away, you know?" Jessie explained as she looked down at the ground briefly and shrugged her shoulders.

"Right."

They came to a pause as Michonne watched Jessie fiddle with the sleeve of her plaid shirt that had come unrolled from its cuff. Once she secured it again, she looked up and pinched her face before starting to laugh nervously.

"God, I'm good at getting side tracked. Anyway...you wanted to see the armory?"

"Sure."

xxxx

"Mashed lima beans, cocoa powder, a little sweetener. I would have eaten it before all this, I swear. It's protein and it fills you up," the tallest and slimmest of the three women who worked in the kitchen excitedly told Carol as they took a break from cooking out on the porch.

"Sounds delicious," Carol said with a feigned smile as she watched the three women avert their eyes from here and look away to the street. She followed their gaze to find a uniformed Rick walking by, smiling and raising his hand to wave at them.

"Afternoon, ladies! Carol, you mind if I steal you for a minute?"

Carol looked back at her new acquaintances to find the tall brunette smiling at her curiously, possibly even with a hint of envy. Carol shrugged her shoulders innocently in response.

"I'll be back," she assured them before she began to walk away.

"You need anything else, you hit me, girl," the brunette called after her catching her off guard.

"Okay, thanks."

She kept a smile on her face as she met Rick in the street and began walking with him.

"I'm in," he said quietly as he continued to patrol the neighborhood, letting his eyes go anywhere but Carol's direction.

"Glad you came to your senses..." she said through her forced smile.

"Let's just keep this between us, OK?"

"I should be saying that to you. You've heard about the party?"

"Yep, everyone's gonna be there."

"That's right. I'll slip out tonight since the armory is right next to Deanna's."

"I'll back you up."

"People might wonder where their new constable is or Carl's dad."

"Good point."

"I've got it," she said sweetly, finally looking up at him. "You know what's great about this place? I get to be invisible again."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I just wanted to take a quick moment to thank the readers and reviewers of the last chapter before we get started on the new one.**

 **Evie-Thank you so, so much for your review. I'm so glad you're enjoying all of the interactions I'm working in. And yes, cooking lady is a bit jealous. He may be crazy Rick, but he's still hot.**

 **Mama-Your support means the world. I give you the party scene this chapter, hopefully less awful.**

 **SSW-I love having you on board with this fic. I'm bracing myself for the fall just like you are.**

 **Guest and Hoosegal-thanks for reading!**

"Did I call it or what?" Deanna asked as she opened the door to the newest set of guests to arrive at her party. "What a beautiful sight," she said smiling as she welcomed them in, always the gracious hostess.

Rick and Michonne glanced at each other from where they stood side by side on the doorstep behind Carl before following him into the house.

"Hi Carl, it's so good to see you again," she said as she patted his head while he walked past her into the foyer where he waitied for the rest of them.

"Stunning," she said of Michonne's simple, lilac strapless sheath dress as she grasped her hand and kissed her cheek when she walked by.

"And you're just darling," she said as playfully she pinched Judith's thigh. "Both you of," she added with a wink looking up at her clean cut father in his crisp, white oxford shirt as he held her in his arms. Rick deflected the compliment with an uncomfortable groan as he took a quick glance at the crowd of increasingly familiar faces that had already gathered.

"There are plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen," Deanna said as she put her hand out in that direction. "I'll let you get settled in, but Rick, be sure to find me later. You're not leaving until you finally meet Reg."

"Will do. Thank you," he said quietly.

Once she left, the four of them stood facing each other in the foyer for a moment, each waiting for another to make a move on behalf of the group.

"This isn't weird or anything," Carl remarked finally.

"Not at all," Michonne deadpanned.

"Carl!"

He turned to find Mikey and Ron calling him over to the dining table where they'd set up camp for the evening with a deck of cards. Carl looked back at his father with questioning eyes.

"Of course. Go on," Rick said as he watched him head off before he could even finish his sentence.

Michonne watched Carl sit down with his friends and easily settle into the card game then glanced up at Rick to find him with a faint smile on his lips as he watched his son. They hadn't spoken much since their meeting that morning aside from a few perfunctory interactions that come with living together, but she hoped that a little time and that view had helped to put him at ease.

"You think we can get away just standing here all night?" she finally asked breaking their silence as she looked up at him, noticing the smile tug a little harder at the side of his mouth.

"Sounds like a fine idea to me."

"Bad influence..." she quipped.

He looked down her finally, his eyes wide at the accusation.

"I thought this was what you wanted?" he asked using his free hand to point out the party going on in front of them.

"I wasn't dreaming of cocktail parties when we were out on the road, but it's part of the package, I guess."

"Guess so. You should get out there."

She looked at him for a moment before he tilted his head as if to ask what she was waiting for.

"I guess I'll start at the bar then. You want a drink?"

"I'm good. I'm gonna go talk to Reg, get that over with."

She nodded and watched as he and Judith head into the living room before venturing into the kitchen on her own.

xxxxxx

She stood in front of the small buffet in the formal dining room, absently tapping the paper cocktail plate against the opposite wrist as she browsed the selection: potato puffs, pickled vegetables, crackers, pimento cheese obviously from the jar...

"Excuse me, are you Michonne?"

She turned to find a man, at least a head taller than her, standing just off to the side. He had a lean build and wore a charcoal grey V-neck sweater over a white t-shirt with well-worn dark denim jeans. She was surprised to see the face that went with the voice; he had deep olive skin with jet black wavy hair chin length he'd tied back loosely at the base of his neck. His strong, square jawline was covered by a healthy layer of dark scruff as was _de riguer_ for most men these days, and it framed his kind smile and while complementing his deep brown eyes.

"I am."

"My name is Dev. I just wanted to introduce myself."

"It's nice to meet you," she said as the surprise from being approached was replaced by a genuine smile.

" _Poubellisme_ , huh?"

She looked down, feeling a flash of warmth in her cheeks from being called out on her highbrow reference. Word apparently traveled fast around the community.

"Trash art?" she challenged lightly with a smirk. "You told your neighbor she made trash art?"

It was his turn to look away now, as he grinned sheepishly to himself.

"It wasn't an insult. I'm sure you know that. But yes, I probably should have chosen my words more carefully."

"Yeah, probably," she teased causing them both to break into a chuckle.

Having broken the ice, while managing to embarrass Michonne and himself, he sighed as he tucked his hands into his front pockets, and shifted his weight to one leg giving the impression that he planned to continue this conversation at least a little while longer. She set the empty plate she'd been holding back down on the buffet table then stepped closer to him so as not to block other guests from the assorted finger foods.

"Well, I wanted to say welcome. I heard Aaron and Eric just brought you and your group in a few days ago."

"You hear everything around here, don't you?"

"We've never brought in a group this large, so it's the definitely the talk of the town. Aaron and Eric told me when I got back from the run today, though; they're my neighbors, we take turns plant-sitting when the other is on the road," he admitted.

"Plant-sitting..." she repeated in a whisper with a small grin.

"I can only imagine how that sounds to you," he said self-consciously given what little he knew about her situation before arriving.

"Nice? Those are the kind of favors I miss doing for my friends. Trust me."

"I'm out there a few weeks at a time, so I know something about what it's like, but it's always been temporary for me. I know that I have a safe place to come back to, people whose company I enjoy. It's not a bad life all things considered..."

"No, it's not."

"You know, there's a small group of us that get together when we can for dinner, cards, movies...it's Aaron, Eric, David, Betsy, Annie, Heath, and myself. They're all good people and we always have fun. You should join us next time."

She inhaled through her nose and straightened her back at the invitation, the stiffening of her posture not going unnoticed by Dev.

"Sure," she said with a forced grin, nodding her head in an effort to further convince herself that this sounded as fun as it was meant to be.

"Whenever you're up for it," he added, sensing that accepting his invitation seemed to be a small act of bravery on her part. Her shoulders relaxed as did her face with those words; he seemed to understand her hesitation which put her at ease. She gave an appreciative smile, and felt moved to reach out to him, as well, in light of his kindness.

"Jessie told me about your idea for the mural."

"Really?" he asked with genuine surprise.

"Everybody talks, right?" she asked with a grin. He bowed his head in mock defeat at having been further outed by one of his loose-lipped neighbors. "I think it's a great idea. When I was out walking with the kids the other day, I couldn't help but notice how imposing the walls felt. It'd be nice to brighten up a section, give them something to look at other than steel panels day in and day out. It'd be nice for us, too. I'd be happy to talk to Deanna about it."

"I'd appreciate that. I've got a few ideas sketched out, but I can't pull it off by myself."

"I find it hard to believe you can't find a few people willing help."

"The artistically inclined don't fare well in this world apparently," he cracked.

Michonne tried to muster a polite smile at his joke, but it felt more like a grimace in response to the pang she felt in her heart.

"Any creative people in your group by any chance?" he continued.

"I'm not sure actually," she said distractedly as she looked out for the nearest grouping of her friends, finding Rick first, standing across the room sipping a glass of scotch while talking to Reg and Deanna. "I'll ask around, though."

"What about you?"

"No," she said quickly as she returned her attention to him. "I don't have a creative bone in my body."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," she said simply.

"You know, I didn't think so either until I got here and tried my hand at painting. Turns out I wasn't half bad. Everyone needs a hobby or two or three around here. You should give it a try."

She opened her mouth to speak, then held back, just tilting her head to the right slightly and taking a deep breath in. She wasn't saying no, but she couldn't say yes.

"I'll talk to Deanna, and let you know what she says. It was nice meeting you, Dev."

"Same here, Michonne."

She gave him a weak smile before turning to make her way through the overcrowded living room. She spotted the door leading to the side porch, and chose that as her destination, walking as quickly as possible through the crowd, driven by a sudden need to leave. Glenn, Noah, and Maggie looked up smiling expectantly as she walked in their direction, but their smiles quickly faded into confusion as she passed by without a glance. When she finally reached the door, she let herself onto the porch and stopped just in front of the white railing where she let out a long, shaky breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. She shook her hands at her side, hoping to rid herself of the tension she was feeling then placed them on the railing in front of her, leaning forward as she dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes.

 _"Hey baby."_

 _She smiled at the the deep voice that sounded from behind at her spot in front of the kitchen sink where she stood rinsing the excess paint off of small plastic containers of finger paints._

 _"Hey. How'd the viewing go?"_

 _He came around to her side and leaned in to kiss her cheek before answering._

 _"It went well. There were a few interested parties, but you know how that goes."_

 _"Sounds promising."_

 _"Where's little man?" he asked as he searched the living room for signs of their son._

 _"I just put him down. He made something for you, though."_

 _She turned off the faucet and quickly dried her hands with a dish towel before grabbing the white piece of paper on the bar in front of her and passing it to him. He smiled to himself as he looked at the paper which barely had a spec of blank space left on it. The artist's heavy handed use of colors had resulted in a large brown blob, but it was still one of the finest pieces of art either of them had ever seen. He looked up to find her smiling, as well, then looked over to the bar where there was another piece of paper._

 _"What's that?" he asked with a mischievous grin as he eyed the paper._

 _"Nothing," she said quickly as she snatched the paper with her hand and crumpled it into a ball in her fist._

 _"So you'll paint with Andre and not with me?"_

 _"He's two-and-a-half years old and he's not an artist, so yes."_

 _"How many times have I tried to get you to come to the studio with me? We could bring a bottle of wine, play some music, paint for a few hours...you'd love it."_

 _"No, I wouldn't because it's not my thing," she explained._

 _"Right because you only enjoy doing things you're good at," he chided playfully as he turned his body to face hers._

 _"Who doesn't?"_

 _"You've got no sense of adventure, 'Chonne," he said with a grin._

 _"That is not true," she countered with a roll of her eyes. "I'll travel anywhere, eat anything, go to all types of random shows and exhibits with you..."_

 _"Because it's in your comfort zone," he said still wearing the smile she desperately_ _wanted to wipe off of his face._

 _"That's a pretty big comfort zone," she countered, unable to keep the grin off her face even though he was challenging her._

 _"It is..."_

 _"But?"_

 _"But you're very good at a lot of things, so you hide this little flaw well."_

 _"Flaw?" she scoffed._

 _"I went to hot yoga with you, and I know I looked like a fool doing it, but I went because you asked. Hell, I look like a fool around you doing most things," he said with a laugh as he stepped in closer and placed his hands on her waist._

 _"That's not true," she said softly and sincerely._

 _"Just come with me one time then you're off the hook. What are you doing this weekend?"_

 _"I guess I have a date at the studio with you," she relented._

 _"And what you are doing right now?" he asked as he brought his lips to hers for a soft kiss. Her eyes flicked down to the mess in the sink._

 _"I'm gonna finish cleaning up and get a little more work done," she murmured into his lips that were still brushing hers._

 _"Leave it."_

 _A smile spread across her face, and she brought her hands up to his cheeks and answered by pressing her lips to his as he wrapped his hands around her lower back, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist so he could guide them to their bedroom._

xxxxxx

Rick stood alone in front of the kitchen window sipping from his second glass of scotch while he kept his eye on the house next door that served as the armory. He'd watched Carol cut across the yard a few minutes earlier, but couldn't see anything else aside from a light coming from the closest window.

"That's a pretty good view, isn't it?" asked a familiar, perky voice. He turned to see Jessie walking toward him with a grin. He instinctively squared himself in front of the window to block her view then shrugged his shoulders in response as he took another sip of his drink.

"Having fun?" she asked as she looked around the otherwise empty room.

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

"That's kind of a stupid question, right?" she asked as she crinkled her nose.

"No," he answered allowing her a small smile. He always felt this sense of disconnect with her questions and comments, but he couldn't deny that she was nice, that she was always trying.

"On a night like this, it feels like ordinary life like before. Well, not like before."

"No," he said looking down, unable to indulge in that particular white lie. Some things were the same, but far too much was missing from his life to say that.

"Yeah, no. I mean, it's better. Not out there, but in here. A lot of things disappeared, but a lot of bullshit went with it. I guess I'm just saying, we all lost things, but we got something back. It isn't enough, but it's something."

He squinted as he looked down at the floor, trying to find it in himself to engage, but instead he just felt empty as her platitudes ran through his ears without ever taking hold in his mind like she probably intended for them to.

"Yeah," was all he could eke out.

"You'll see," she confidently as she folded her arms across her chest.

He looked up to find her smiling brightly back at him, and lowered his gaze slightly, his attention caught by a large, faded yellow mark on the outside of her right bicep.

"What's that? On your arm?"

She looked down at her right arm, completely unaware of what he was referring to until she saw the faded bruise herself, more prominent in the harsh kitchen lighting than it had been in her bedroom while getting ready. She slid her left hand up her arm, replacing his view of the bruise with that of her diamond band shimmering in the bright light.

"Oh, I just banged myself up cleaning out the garage the other day."

"Is that right?"

"That's right," she said as she pressed her lips tightly together to form a grin. She looked out of the room for a moment then back at him. "I think Sam's looking for me. I should go," she said with a nod toward the other room as she slowly turned, keeping her eyes on Rick as she walked away.

He took another sip of his drink then turned to face the window once again. His eyes went to the armory immediately where the light was now off; he could safely assume Carol had succeeded in getting what the need. He let out a sigh of relief and then let his eyes scan the remaining area, a habit formed during his days as a sheriff. It was pitch black out, but light streaming outside from a window on the opposite side of the house cast down on something moving on the porch. He kept his eyes fixed on that spot until he could finally make out the familiar silhouette; she was alone with her back to him as she leaned against the railing. He took another sip as he watched, feeling the pull to join her. He hesitated, though, unsure whether she'd want the company, particularly his; so he took another sip, telling himself that he would walk over after that, but opted for another and then another, and eventually watched as she turned and walked back into the party.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday season! Sorry for the delay between updates-I got a little lazy over the holidays, but I'm back with a super long chapter. I just want to thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing these chapters, and address a few things that came up.**

 **Evie: I do not mind your comparisons at all; in fact, I invite them because this story really was meant to be a remix. It's funny you mentioned the Rosita/Sasha/Michonne scene because it was the impetus for me writing this fic. I wanted to know what was going on with Michonne, and "I've been sleeping" or whatever they offered was not cutting it for me, so a fic was born.**

 **SSW: Yes, this story is going beyond season 5 and will include a little bit of spec for 6B if I can keep up. I'm excited to play with that stuff.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope you all have a very happy and healthy new year!**

She'd turned her morning alarm off sometime around 4:00 AM when it became clear to her that she wouldn't be needing it at all. Since getting home from the infirmary, she'd showered and put on a clean white tank top and sweat pants then settled on top of her made bed, staring at the ceiling. Noah was gone. Tara wasn't yet, but things were touch and go, and there was nothing she could do about it. She found herself pacing the room in the dead of night, switching out her sweats for her leather pants and grabbing a cardigan from her top drawer so she could walk over to the infirmary before she stopped herself, questioning how it would help. What she needed to do was sleep so that she could relieve her friends in the morning, so she tossed the cardigan on the bed and lay down again staring at the ceiling. Loss was nothing new, especially not lately with one coming right after the other, but this was the first time she'd experienced it from a place of safety where she didn't have the luxury of substituting grieving with surviving.

As the first of the early morning sun began to stream through her windows, she looked to her right seeing that the clock read 6:30 AM, finally an appropriate time to start her day; then she rolled her head to the left to search for the cardigan she'd taken off overnight, but the basket of clean laundry setting on an ottoman against the wall caught her eye. She pulled herself out of bed to take a closer look at the black t-shirt strewn across the top of the pile. In the light of day, it was obvious to her what it was. She picked it by the sleeves, letting the shirt unfold, exposing the print on the front.

 _"I keep meaning to ask you what the story behind your shirt is," she said pointing at the bird graphic with 'one one recording studios' written under it._

 _"Thrift store find," he answered with a quizzical look as he screwed the cap back onto a bottle of apple juice before turning to place it in the fridge before returning to the kitchen island where Michonne sat drinking a glass herself._

 _"Cool."_

 _"Thrift store after everything went down, so it's not vintage or anything. Or maybe it is…I have no idea where this place is," he said with a grin in his typically dry manner._

 _"Right..." Michonne answered as she started to laugh at herself. "That was really stupid of me."_

 _"Nah, I've always wondered myself... I could have told you anything," he said shaking his head at the missed opportunity to mess with her._

 _"Probably."_

 _"It was my label. I was a pretty well-known international recording artist, had a few number one hits in Germany, you may know some of them..." he said completely straight-faced._

 _"OK, get the hell out of here," she laughed as she crumpled up the paper towel she'd used as a plate for her apple slices with peanut butter then tossed at his face._

She loosely folded the shirt and placed it back on top of the pile before walking around to the opposite side of the bed where the slipped on her boots before exiting her room quietly. She looked around at the doors of the neighboring bedrooms, all shut with no sign of activity, so she gingerly walked downstairs toward the living room which was quiet and dark save for the sunlight peeking through the living room shades. As she came off the last step and rounded the corner, she was surprised to find Carl, Rick, and Judith sitting at the dining table eating breakfast.

"I didn't think anyone was awake yet," she whispered as she walked up behind Carl, moving to stand next to him. Rick and Judith looked up from the spoonful of oatmeal he was guiding toward her mouth at the sound of Michonne's voice.

"I couldn't sleep," Carl mumbled.

"If one of us gets up, we all do," Rick added referring to the Grimes family's very close sleeping quarters.

She reached down and rubbed her hand over Carl's long hair which was a tousled, mess of bedhead before heading into the kitchen to make herself some tea. The kettle was already on the burner, and a quick touch against the side revealed that it was still warm, likely leftover from their oatmeal. She grabbed a bag from the box of black tea she left out on the counter then filled her mug to the brim with the water before walking back over to the dining table, yawning as she settled into the chair across from Carl.

"Sorry if we woke you, too," he apologized, having looked up at the sound of her yawn.

"Not at all," she answered after taking a sip of her tea which had already cooled to the perfect drinking temperature. "I couldn't sleep myself. I decided to get up so I could check in on Tara and whoever else is there with her. I'm sure it was a long night for them."

"Is it OK if I tag along?"

"Of course." She glanced quickly at Rick who gave her a quick consenting nod.

"Let me go get dressed. Brush my teeth."

"And the hair," she said with a wink.

Michonne took another sip of her tea, glancing out of the side of her eye at Rick as she encircled the mug with both hands, holding it close to her mouth in preparation of the next sip. He sat there quietly feeding Judith, no smiling or playing like she was used to seeing from them in them in the mornings. The baby was uncharacteristically subdued, as well, causing Michonne to wonder if she somehow knew that her family was in mourning today.

"You should come with us," she said quietly causing Rick to look up at her again.

"I've gotta watch Judy until Carol can take her at 10:00, then I've got my shift," he hemmed.

"She can come with us."

"We shouldn't crowd them. I'll stop by later."

" _Crowd_ them?" Michonne asked incredulously.

"Yeah," he responded simply which only caused her to frown in confusion.

"We just lost Noah, and Tara is hanging on by a thread over there," she said still whispering, but emphatically as she pointed in the in the direction of the infirmary. "This is our _family_ , Rick...where else would you..." she trailed off shaking her head in utter confusion before hearing Carl bounding down the stairs. She tore her eyes from Rick and took another sip of tea before Carl appeared in front of her dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, his hair now tamed into a more presentable mess of hair.

"Ready," he announced.

Michonne shook her head, and pushed away from the table then walked into the kitchen to place her mug in the sink. She wasn't usually one to leave dirty dishes, but she decided she'd tend to it later since she was even more anxious to get out of the house now.

"You coming?" Carl asked his father, oblivious to the conversation that occurred in his short absence.

"I'm gonna go a little later."

"OK," Carl said as he knitted his brow at the unexpected response.

Michonne walked toward the front door, and was quickly followed by Carl. She held the door open for him, looking over at her shoulder once more at Rick as he stoically finished up breakfast with his daughter, before closing it behind her and descending the porch steps to catch up with Carl who stood waiting for her. They took off, slowly walking side by side in the direction of the clinic.

"Have you seen her yet?" he asked looking up at her as they walked. She looked down to meet his eyes which were now almost level with hers thanks to the growth spurt he was clearly going through.

"Yeah. I stopped by for a little bit last night after they stabilized her."

"Is it really bad?"

"No. She looks comfortable, like she's just sleeping."

"I just don't get it."

"Get what?" she asked, slowing her pace slightly to focus on him.

"How they could let that happen to Noah and Tara."

"Glen and Eugene did everything they could, sometimes things don't go your way out there..."

"Not them. I understand being scared or inexperienced, but I can't understand leaving someone in danger. We don't do that."

"No, we don't," she agreed hesitantly as the quiet anger simmering under his words became more clear to her. She looked up to find that they were just a few feet from the infirmary, so she stopped in the middle of the street and turned to face him so that they could continue their conversation.

"On the first day here, I told my dad that I thought these people were weak, that I was afraid they'd make us weak, and look what's happening."

"That's not what's happening. We're not weak...and neither are they, they just don't know yet; they haven't needed to, but we'll help them get there."

Carl gave her a look she knew well, one they'd come to share with each other quite often over the past year. With a blank face and slight tilt of his head, he wordlessly asked her to level with him, to cut the bullshit. She nodded her head, and sighed. _I know_ she whispered under her breath. He had every right to be angry about what happened to his friends, but she wanted him to see it from all sides.

"Look, no one's born knowing how to handle themselves out there. We all had to learn at some point: your dad, Daryl, me, _you_. We can teach them. They need us."

He held her gaze for a moment as he mulled over her appeal before dropping his head, nodding in agreement as he looked back up.

"You're right," he started. "Now that we're here, and we've seen what they're like, not teaching them would be just like leaving them out there on their own, and we don't do that."

Michonne released a small sigh of relief and a proud grin developed on her face.

"Exactly. That's not who we are."

He nodded back at her then they both turned to take the last few steps toward the entrance of the infirmary. He opened the door in front of her, but stood still on the doormat, glancing back at her. She nudged him forward with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. Once they were both inside, she shut the door behind her and walked toward the small group of people clustered at the kitchen island.

"Good morning," Maggie said with a small smile as she straightened up in her seat on a bar stool.

"Good morning," Michonne said, her greeting accompanied by warm hugs for Maggie and Rosita who were seated next to each other looking out over the room so that they could keep their eyes on Tara. After embracing them, she looked up and nodded at the man who was sitting opposite them. "Pete."

"Morning," he said with a nod. "I was just on my way out," he announced as he stood. "Rosita, send for me at home if you need anything. I'll be back in a few hours."

They quietly watched him leave before returning their attention toward each other. Carl left the ladies to take the empty chair next to Eugene at Tara's bedside. She watched as he sat down and quietly said something Eugene before giving him a quick pat on the back. Eugene then returned to his silent vigil, and Carl followed his lead.

"How's she doing?" Michonne asked as she returned her attention to Maggie and Rosita.

"Stable. Hanging on," Rosita answered.

"Eugene said she moved her hand last night while he was talking to her, but I don't know. Pete said that can happen, that it probably doesn't mean much," Maggie offered, trying to temper her optimism.

"Well, we'll still take it," Michonne said. "How are you two holding up?"

"Fine. We've been here all night. Eugene, too," Rosita said as she jutted her chin toward him.

"You all should get some rest."

"I will once Pete gets back," Rosita assured her. Michonne then narrowed her focus on Maggie.

"I will," she promised. "I'll go in a bit."

"Excuse me." The three women looked up to see Eugene walking toward them. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but with this room being as small as it is, I couldn't help but hear that you'd be going home."

"Mmm hmm," Maggie responded softly. No one was doing well, but her heart broke for him as he seemed to be taking Tara's injury the hardest.

"Would it be too much trouble to ask you to bring some things back for me?"

"Yes," Rosita replied brusquely causing Michonne to look at Maggie in shock. She just shook her head knowingly, assuring Michonne not to be worried. "You should be going home yourself, Eugene."

"I cannot do that, Rosita," he responded adamantly. "I promised I would not leave her side and I will not break that promise to her. Not now."

"Tara would tell you to stop being so literal... and she'd also probably say to back off, creeper."

"That may be true, but until I hear those words from her mouth, I will err on the side of caution by upholding the strictest interpretation of my promise."

"Eugene," Rosita said in exasperation.

"Carl and I will keep watch for you. If anything happens, one of us will come get you right away," Michonne offered, her gentle tone contrasting Rosita's very sharp version of tough love.

"Promise?" he asked.

"We promise," Carl called out from his seat at the bedside where he'd been watching the exchange.

"Come on. Let's go," Maggie said with a smile.

"I will be back in no more than 90 minutes," he informed Michonne as he passed her on his way out of the infirmary.

"OK," she said as she looked him square in the eye with a firm nod. Once they shut the door behind them, she walked over to take the now empty seat next to Carl, still warm from Eugene's constant presence since last night. She took in a deep breath as she looked at Tara's face. She was breathing softly and evenly, eyes closed, and no signs of trauma on her face. She looked like she was sleeping, not unconscious or in a coma, and therefore, it was hard to believe she wouldn't just wake up at any moment.

"Can you hand that to me?" she asked as she tapped Carl's arm with her hand then pointed at the bottle of lotion setting on the bedside table.

He passed her the bottle and watched curiously as she squeezed a small amount into the palm of her hand, then took Tara's hand in hers and began to massage it into her skin.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting some lotion on her hands so they don't dry out. Moving them around for her, too, since she can't do it on her own. Don't want them to tighten upon her," Michonne explained as she looked over at Carl whose face was still pinched in confusion.

"My grandmother got really sick when I was in college so I went home every chance I could to visit. This is something I used to do for her. I'd save the crosswords from the paper every day, too, and then I'd work through all of them with her at her bedside. She'd been doing them every day since she was around your age, so I didn't want her to miss out."

"Was she..." Carl trailed off as his eyes drifted back to Tara, unsure of what to call this state.

"She was in a coma for a couple weeks before she passed," Michonne confirmed before catching herself, "but she was older and sick before, so..."

"I know. I was out of it for a few days when I got shot," he said matter of factly.

"That's right."

"I'm not sure what my parents did while I was out, but every time I woke up, at least one of them was always there."

"I'm sure they were."

"Once I woke up, too, they never left my side. It must have been boring," he said with a small smile as he thought of his mother sitting and staring at him for hours on end.

"No," Michonne said shaking her head and matching his smile with her own. "I guarantee they were probably feeling every emotion, except that one considering how much they love you."

She gently placed Tara's hand back on the bed then grabbed the lotion, and walked around to stand on the other side of the bed where she grabbed her left hand in hers to start the process again. As she gently kneaded her hand, she looked around the silent room from this new vantage point. Tara's soft breathing was the only sound she could hear. Rosita was hunched over in her chair in the kitchen, resting her head against the granite counter top using Michonne's presence as quick chance to rest her eyes; and Carl sat in his chair with his hands clasped in his lap staring at the edge of her bed as if he didn't feel comfortable looking at her. The sound of the door opening pulled her attention away from her task, and she looked up to see Rick entering in his constable uniform with Judith in his arms. The sight of him brought her a sense of relief; despite what was going on with him lately, he was still there. Once he closed the door, Rosita slowly lifted her head off the table and Carl turned in his chair to see his father.

"Hello," he said quietly as he nodded in Rosita's direction. His greeting was met by a faint smile before she laid her head down again.

He then walked further into the room, uncomfortably avoiding the steady gazes from Michonne and his son. He sat down in the empty chair beside Carl, and turned Judith to sit in his lap, but she had other plans as she reached for her brother with both hands. _Hey Judes_ he whispered as he opened his arms to her so that his father could pass her over.

"You made it."

Rick looked up to find Michonne still focused on him from where she stood across the bed.

"Of course I did," he answered stiffly. "How is she?"

"No change."

He made a soft, regretful sound in response then shifted his focus from Michonne to Tara. As she returned to massaging her hand, she watched as he sat there, his free hands now gripping the arm rests of the chair and his lips pressed tightly together in a straight line. He seemed uneasy, but he was there she told herself.

"Have you seen Deanna yet this morning?" she asked quietly as she released Tara's hand from hers and placed it at her side.

"Not since yesterday," he answered, his eyes lagging behind his words, not meeting hers until after he'd finished speaking.

"I should check on her. Will you be here for a little while?"

"Yeah."

"OK. I'll be back soon then." She nodded then walked around the bed to make her way toward the door.

"Hey Michonne." She stopped midway and turned back at the sound of Carl's voice.

"Yeah?"

"Can you stop at home on your way back and bring the stack of comics and the deck of cards on the shelf in my room?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

"No, that's all."

"Ok," she said softly smiling to herself. "I'll be back in a bit."

xxxx

She shut the door and stood on the steps of the Monroe townhouse for a moment, her quick visit had spanned a few hours as she sat with Deanna and Reg. Regardless of his age, a mother had lost her son. It was something that people say should never happen in that order, something that Michonne knew too well herself. Ever the optimist and professional, though, Deanna put on a brave front this morning. She'd allowed herself space to do nothing but grieve the night before, but today was a new day, she said, and they needed to carry on. Against Michonne's advisement, she didn't want to reschedule their afternoon meeting to go over plans; she wanted to maintain some normalcy, so Michonne obliged; she would present the plans she had been working on for the past week at 4:00 PM today. She walked down the steps and turned in the direction of her house to pick up the items Carl had requested along with the plans she'd been working on so that she could make her final revisions.

"Michonne."

She turned to find Dev jogging lightly to catch up with her so she stopped and took a few steps toward him to meet in middle of the street

"Hi."

"I'm sorry about Noah."

"Thank you," she said looking down at the ground for a moment, unable to handle his earnest gaze. "And I'm sorry about Aiden. I know he was a part of your crew," she added as she looked back at him, squinting her eyes, still unable to fully look at him.

"Thank you," he said rather stiffly before redirecting the focus back to her. "How are you holding up?"

She paused at his question, one she had asked of others several times that morning. It was hard to answer, but she knew it came from a place of care and concern...even helplessness in the face of someone's grief.

"I'm OK," she said with a reassuring nod.

"You mentioned 'the kids' when we were talking at the party, so I wasn't sure of he was..." Her eyes widened at his assumption.

"No. No, no...I was talking about Carl and Judith. Rick's kids. We met Noah a few weeks before we got here and took him in. He'd lost his parents and brothers..." She left the story at that as she watched his expression change from slight relief for her to a look of dismay.

"God...he didn't look a day over eighteen," he remarked genuinely affected by this young man's plight. "Where did you find him?"

"This..." she trailed off as she searched for a way to explain the horror that was Grady hospital, "place down in Atlanta. He'd befriended a girl in our group."

"Tara?"

"No, it's no one you know," she answered solemnly.

"This kind of thing was supposed to stop when you got in here. We promised you safety, right?"

"There aren't any guarantees anymore. We know that," she assured him.

"Well, I'm truly sorry, Michonne. I am."

He took a step toward her to close the distance between them then extended his right hand and placed it on her upper arm, rubbing it gently before letting it trail down a few inches to her elbow. He cupped it in his palm, pausing for a moment then giving it a light squeeze before letting his hand fall to his side.

His comforting gesture lasted just a few seconds, but she could still feel his touch on her skin, the warmth giving way to a chill that ran up her arm to the back of her neck, and now to the back of her eyes where a stinging sensation caused her to break her gaze and look down at the ground. She clenched her eyes shut and inhaled slowly, hoping that the threat of tears would remain just that and not come to fruition. The feeling thankfully passed, and she looked back up at him, shyly mouthing _thank you_ before clearing her throat and fully regaining her composure.

"You know I mentioned the mural to Deanna the other day, and she approved it. I was going to stop by to tell you, but then everything happened. She said you could start on the panels behind the armory." She tried to muster a smile at being able to deliver at least one bit of good news on this terrible day.

"Way back in the corner where nobody ever goes," he replied with a wry grin.

"For now," she said with a shrug. "I think she referred to it as a _pilot program_."

"Sounds like something she would say."

"The words _arts_ and _initiative_ were thrown in there somewhere, too," Michonne added with a genuine grin since he also recognized Deanna's propensity for bombast.

"You know, I was just going to slap some paint on a wall one afternoon, but now it feels like this is turning into something bigger. No pressure at all," he said as he ran his hand through his loose, wavy hair, a bemused look on his face.

"Just do what you originally set out to do."

"Would you be willing to take a look at my sketches?" he asked tentatively. "Another day, of course, when you're up to it."

She looked down the road to her house, and to the infirmary beyond that, knowing that she had obligations to uphold there then looked back at Dev. She barely knew him, nor him her, but she was drawn to him. He seemed kind, considerate, and hopeful; all things that felt like a salve to her wounded heart and mind. She could leave now and return to the tragedy that awaited her down the street, but she couldn't remember the last time someone reached out to her like he had or the last time she'd chosen comfort over the hard road, so she decided to try another way in this moment.

"I can take a look at them now. I have a few minutes to spare."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Just let me grab them then," he stammered slightly as he started to backpedal in the direction of his house, keeping his eyes on her until she joined him in walking toward his house.

He turned forward once she was by his side, and they quietly walked to his house where she waited on the porch while he went inside, coming out a couple minutes later with a black, moleskin journal in his hand. They set off for the farthest corner of the community, finding the section of the wall behind the armory. They stopped and took it in; the position of the sun and the building blocking it made it a dark, dreary corner. They shared a look of disappointment after surveying the area then he flipped open the journal, and handed it over to her.

"This page and the next," he said in almost a whisper as he showed her his sketches.

He picked at the loose button of his worn denim shirt as he watched her thoughtfully examine the first sketch before turning to the next one. He smiled as he watched her compare the sketches, now flipping back and forth between the two. She pursed her lips as she thought and traced her index finger over the sketch. He wondered what was running through her mind; he was nervous yet excited to hear her opinion. When she finally looked up, she caught him looking at her and gave him a small grin before flipping to the first page.

"This one," she said decisively as she handed it over to him.

He saw that she had chosen his sketch of an endless field of wildflowers, and smiled to himself as it wouldn't have been his choice.

"It's abstract," she explained, "but it's not too stark or cold. Quite the opposite actually. It's like looking beyond the wall to what we'd like to see. It's warm. Hopeful."

"Then that's the one," he confirmed. "So if you're not an artist yourself, where does the interest come from?" he asked impressed with the spontaneous critique she delivered, the ease with which she expressed her opinion giving away her previous experience.

"Just something I picked up..."

With that question, she closed herself off to him, as she turned to look at the wall. For someone with an obviously big heart and open mind, he found her to be incredibly guarded when it came to personal details.

"I was born in India, just outside of Chennai, but my parents sent me to live with my aunt's family in London when I was five."

She slowly looked away from the wall and focused on him, her brow furrowed in confusion at the random information he was volunteering. She was obviously interested, however, so he continued.

"They wanted me to have better educational opportunities, so I stayed in London until I received a graduate degree in economics then I took a job with a large company right out of school. I was still based in London, but I spent at least eighty percent of my time anywhere but home. I was in a different city every week, so when I had free time, I'd find the closest museum because it was one of the best things to do alone without feeling so alone."

"So that's where this came from?" she asked as she ran her fingers over the journal he held in his hands.

"It is."

"Why didn't you use your work experience to help Deanna?"

He chuckled at her quick change from nostalgia to practical matters.

"When is the last time you actually paid for something?" he asked in return, still chucking.

"Good point," she answered bashfully.

"I'm reasonably young, healthy, unattached, used to life on the road...being a runner just made sense. Plus it gets boring in here, so it's nice to have a change of scenery from time to time even if it's not all that pleasant out there."

"I get that."

"But if we ever see some kind of trade or commerce start to develop here, I'm your man. I'll gladly head up the First Bank of Alexandria."

"I'll hold you to that," she said with a grin as she returned her focus to the wall once again. She wanted to smile and feel good, but found herself pulling back every time she did as thoughts of her family came back into her mind. He joined in on her quiet moment, turning to look at the wall himself.

"I'd like to help," she said, her quiet voice breaking the silence between them.

"With what?"

"With this," she said with a soft chuckle as she spread her hands to gesture at the expansive blank canvas that was the rusted metal wall in front of them.

"Oh," he said as his consternation gave way to pleasant surprise. "I figured I was on my own, especially now..." he said trailing off, not feeling the need to name the obvious recent events that demanded her attention.

"This is still important, especially now. It's something for the community to enjoy, a reminder to be hopeful. Things are going to change around here given what happened on that run. There will be meetings and training sessions coming shortly, but we need this, too."

"We do."

She felt the stinging sensation starting in the back of her eyes again, but before she could quash it, she felt her eyes begin to water, and a tear fell out of the corner of her right eye leaving a trail over her cheek before sliding off of her face. She broke eye contact with him and quickly looked down, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as she willed herself to stop.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she continued to look down for just a moment longer until she could assure herself that she'd succeeded in stopping it. She felt a warm, strong hand come into contact with her upper back, just at the start of her neck, gently rubbing circles.

"Don't be..." he said in a hushed voice as he kept his hand steadied on her back, watching for some kind of sign from her to remove it, but it didn't come. She stood still, quietly breathing in and out as she raised her head and looked forward. He could feel her shoulders relaxing under his touch until they tensed suddenly at the sound of glass shattering in the distance which was soon followed by yelling. They looked at each other, eyes wide with fear of what it could be.

"Shit," she hissed as she quickly turned, his hand falling from her back.

"What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," she said shaking her head as she took a few steps which quickly evolved into a full out run. He ran alongside her, his longs legs matching hers step for step. As they rounded the corner, she could make out Deanna's voice before they could see anything.

 _"Damn it, Rick! I said stop."_

"Or what? You gonna kick me out?"

"Put that gun down, Rick."

Once they rounded one final corner, a group of her friends and neighbors circling Rick and Pete in the street came into view. She came up behind Carl and Enid, grasping onto his shoulder as she came to a stop with Dev at her side.

"You OK?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," he answered quickly, unable to take his eyes off of the scene in front of him.

She looked up at Deanna standing directly across the circle from her, then down at the center of attention. Pete was writhing on the ground, his face bloodied; and Rick knelt on the ground, his face also covered in blood, with a gun that was not his own in his right hand.

"You still don't get it. None of you do! We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live," Rick continued wildly as he faced Deanna.

"Rick!" He turned to see Michonne, but kept on.

"You, you just sit and plan and hesitate," he said to her before turning his back to address Deanna. "You pretend like you know when you don't. You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done. Things don't get better because you-you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here."

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," she said through gritted teeth.

Michonne shifted her focus between the two of them, her breathing growing more rapid and heavy as she tried to gauge the situation. In her heart of hearts, she never believed he would use that gun, but the situation only seemed to be escalating.

"Me? Me? You..." he started to laugh maniacally at her accusation. "You mean-you mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by-"

She stood looking down on Rick, rendered unconscious immediately when her fist connected with the side of his head. He was slumped on the ground, his chest visibly rising and falling with each breath he took. She looked just to his side and spotted the gun that had fallen from his grip. She bent over to pick it up then stood slowly and lifted her eyes to look at Deanna who was staring back at her in stunned silence. She shoved the gun in her back pocket then shook her throbbing hand at her side.

"Rosita, Glenn, Tobin, can you come help me with these two?" she asked as she picked them out of the crowd. "Everyone else move along."

She waited until the crowd finally began to disperse then knelt at Rick's side and brushed a blood soaked curl that was stuck to his bloodied forehead to the side.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she whispered under her breath.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: We've arrived at** ** _Conquer_** **. I did something here that I'm still not so sure about, and I'm not sure how you'll feel reading it, so I wanted to explain. This chapter ends with the bedroom scene which is perfection, and we don't mess with perfection. Oh no no. It's verbatim except for some small changes to fit my story, but I wanted to include it because it is such an important moment for the two of them and book ends this chapter nicely…and I didn't want you to have to go find the transcript on your own. Enjoy!**

The creaking of the door was enough to rouse her from her light sleep, which was all she could manage in the uncomfortable folding chair she was seated in. She opened her tired eyes to see Deanna walking toward her.

"He's still out?" she whispered as she stopped at the foot of the bed, glancing down at a sleeping Rick before returning her attention to Michonne.

"Yes."

"You got him good, Michonne," she said dryly.

Michonne looked down at him blankly. She certainly wasn't pleased with herself in any way, and she found absolutely no humor in this situation. She'd done the only thing she could think to do at the time which had rendered him unconscious for the past eight hours. She looked back up to find Deanna looking expectantly at her.

"We need to talk," she said almost apologetically knowing that this neither an ideal time nor moment for Michonne.

"I know."

"Let's get some fresh air," she suggested as a way to get Michonne alone for a few minutes. Michonne sat still, glancing down at Rick then back at her. "Don't worry, we'll stay close," she assured her, sensing her hesitation.

Michonne bent down and zipped up her boots then straightened her clothes and stretched as she stood, trying to work out the kinks and aches in her muscles. They walked out of the unfinished basement level apartment, and the cool night air hit Michonne immediately causing her to shiver and wish she'd asked someone to bring her a jacket earlier. They walked up to the steps of the above unit, and took a seat so that the door leading to Rick was still in her sight. She took in a deep breath, and looked at Deanna, waiting for her to start since she'd called this meeting.

"You know I have to ask..."

"I didn't know about the gun, if I had-"

"I know," Deanna said cutting her off immediately. "I could see it on your face when you saw him."

"He wouldn't have used it," Michonne assured her.

"But I don't know that," Deanna explained calmly. "Neither does my husband, my son, our neighbors..."

Michonne nodded her head; she understood completely. They didn't know Rick like she did, and she couldn't deny how unsettling his rant was, even for her.

"I think he's just frustrated," she proffered as some sort of explanation, "...what he's been through out there, the loss he's experienced-"

"That may explain his behavior," Deanna inserted softly, but firmly, "but it doesn't excuse it. He threatened the people he was charged with protecting. He broke the very laws he was supposed to uphold by having a gun inside the walls, one he very likely stole from the armory."

"We don't know that," Michonne quickly corrected. "We shouldn't make assumptions until Rick's had a chance to speak for himself."

"And he will, this evening, at the meeting I'm going to call. I want to allow everyone to say their piece."

In the absence of a formal court of law, it seemed like the fairest option, but the thought of Rick's fate resting in the hands of a community of naive, frightened people didn't sit well with her.

"And then what?"

"And then I'll make the decision as I always have, taking the entire community's best interest into consideration."

Michonne sighed as she looked ahead considering the possible outcomes. "Are you going to kick us out?"

"After talking with everyone, I'll do what I need to do in regard to him and him alone."

"And what about Pete?" Michonne asked.

"This meeting is about Rick's actions."

"He's beating his wife," Michonne returned sharply, her tone a detour from the heretofore cordial exchange. "That's what precipitated all of this. I'm not excusing Rick, but I don't know how you can try one man in front of the community and not the other."

"It's complicated, Michonne," she said shaking her head. "He's our only doctor, a surgeon at that. He's saved lives."

"What about Denise? Dr. Cloyd," she asked.

"She's a psychiatrist, it's not the same. Pete's never felt it was appropriate."

"Of course he hasn't," Michonne pointed out. "He should be training a team of medics, or at the very least, a woman with a medical degree, but instead he's controlling access to medical care and further securing his standing in this community. He's playing you, Deanna."

"If you felt so strongly about this, why are you just bringing up now?"

"I'd planned to talk to you about Denise at our meeting this afternoon, but now that I know the whole story...If you're going to do this, you need to do it right."

"Pete is a long-standing problem that will need to be dealt with at another time. I'm here to talk about Rick."

Michonne bit her lower lip and nodded, resigned to the fact that Deanna had already determined how she was going to proceed, and that this visit was merely a courtesy and not an act of seeking counsel.

"Deanna, you brought us here for a reason, and Rick was a huge part of that. We can help you make this community stronger. That's what you wanted, right?"

Deanna tilted her head and pressed her lips together in a tight grin, not answering her question.

"You should share that at the meeting, Michonne. I know it's only been a few days, but you should know that I think the world of you," she said as she covered Michonne's hand where it rested on her knee with hers.

"Thank you," Michonne whispered back as she looked down at their hands, feeling as though she was about to take a fall.

"It pains me to have to do this, but you're too close to this matter, and appearances being what they are...I think it's best if you step down from your position until this issue is resolved." She squeezed Michonne's hand and gave her a rueful look.

"I understand," Michonne said evenly as she slipped her hand out from under Deanna's and stood up from her spot. "If that's all there is, I'm going to head back now. I'll see you at the meeting."

Deanna nodded while looking up at her then watched her make the short walk back into the apartment.

xxx

"What's so funny?"

His laughter ceased at the sound of the humorless voice questioning him. He looked up from his spot on the mattress lying on the floor of to find that he was not alone as he thought he was. Michonne was sitting in a metal folding chair in the corner wearing the same clothes he'd seen her in the previous morning. Her arms were folded across her chest and she had a stern look on her face that was undoubtedly meant for him.

"You were here the whole time?"

"All night. What's so funny?"

He pushed himself up to a seated position with his back against the wall, readying himself for the confrontation he could feel coming on. It was just the two of them now; there were no distractions and nowhere to hide.

"It's… it's like the train car. After the whole thing, I'm still there."

She squinted her eyes at his admission. Of all of the explanations he could give, Terminus was the last thing she expected to hear.

"Deanna wanted you in here. Calm things down," she explained. "Rosita patched you up. Carl came by for a while, I sent him home."

She'd apprised him of all he needed to know which left her with only one thing to say, so she pulled her chair closer to him and leaned in.

"Rick. What are you doing?"

She watched as he bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes and the question.

"We put Pete in another house," she continued, irritated by his non-answer. "You could've told me what was happening."

"You knew what was going on. You're the one who brought it to my attention," he said finally lifting his head to look at her.

"We could have dealt with it together. Avoided this whole mess," she returned firmly. His attempt at deflecting the blame only perturbed her more.

"It moved fast. And then Noah and Tara..." he explained, his tone softening with the mention of their names. "I couldn't tell you about the gun."

"No, you couldn't," she fired back sarcastically.

"Oh you wanted this place…"

"We _had_ to stop being out there."

"Well..." He shook his head in and dropped his hand in his lap. She'd gotten what she wanted for better or worse in his estimation. "We're here."

"Well," she started with a hard stare. "You just said you weren't."

He glanced back at her, ready to respond in turn, but stopped himself at the sight of her; her face had softened and she was looking at him, searching his face for an answer. She wasn't the enemy, and never had been, but there was something about the fight for him, he couldn't pass one up. He was about to respond, but was distracted by the beam of light that began to shine into his eyes through the open door. He watched Glenn, Carol, and Abraham enter the room then glanced back at Michonne and gave a quick nod to put their exchange on hold before returning his attention to their new guests.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Michonne continued seamlessly, using their presence to put pressure on him.

"You took it, right?" Carol asked as she stared down at him, hoping to lead him into an answer that would maintain their cover. "From the armory?"

Rick stared back at her. He understood what she was doing, but couldn't decide which way to go, although she and the group had already taken his silence as a _yes_.

"That was stupid," she scoffed. "Why did you do it?"

"Just in case," he answered half-heartedly as he glanced at Michonne.

"Deanna's planning to have a meeting tonight," Glenn announced soberly. "For anyone who wants to."

"To kick Rick out?" Abraham asked.

"To try," Carol sneered.

"You don't know that," Michonne interjected from her seat, pulling everyone's focus to her.

"Did you know about this?" Rick asked her pointedly. Whether he had the right to feel this way or not, the thought that of her withholding this from him hurt.

"She stopped by late last night to let me know. I was gonna tell you, but then..." she trailed off as she motioned at the distraction in front of them.

He watched as she looked down, shaking her head wearily; they could both feel the weight of the increasing number of unresolved issues between them mounting.

"At the meeting," Carol said, getting back to the business that mattered most to her, "you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever you want them to."

Michonne's face contorted with disbelief as Carol created this story so effortlessly, and at the insinuation that this wasn't the impetus for stealing the guns at all, but rather a convenient excuse.

"That's perfect..." Michonne piped up causing Carol to turn toward her with a pleasantly surprised grin thinking that she had garnered her support, "...exploiting this family's trouble for your gain."

Michonne looked pointedly at Rick, hoping that this would be the breaking point for him because it certainly was for her. She wasn't sure who they were anymore if they were going to proceed with this, creating lies about helping someone instead of actually doing it.

"Well, regardless of what you end up telling them," Abraham continued getting back to the most pressing matter in his eyes, "what happens if after all the nice words, they still try to kick him out?"

"They're guarding the armory now," Glenn added.

"We still have knives," Carol said, committed to hiding the fact that she and Rick still had guns. "That's all we'll need against them."

"Tonight, at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer, you grab Reg," Rick said as he looked to Michonne. "Glenn and Abraham cover us, watch the crowd-"

"We can _talk_ to them," Michonne pleaded.

"Yeah, we will. If we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats."

"Like at Terminus?" Glenn asked, obviously as disillusioned with this plan as Michonne was.

"No, we just tell 'em," Rick assured him. "They give us the armory, and it's over," he said shaking his head in exasperation.

"Did you want this?" Glenn asked.

"No," he replied genuinely. "I hit my limit. I screwed up." He looked to Michonne knowing that she needed to hear that more than Glenn did. "And here we are," he added before he tore his eyes away from hers and began to lie down. He wanted to stop all the of the outside noise so that he could think, figure things out for himself. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more."

He stared at the wall ahead as he listened to Abe, Glenn, and Carol file out of the room. He watched Michonne stand out of the corner of his eye and walk toward the door, surprised she was leaving him as well. He looked over his shoulder quickly seeing Abe holding the door for her.

"Michonne," he called out.

She stopped and looked back at him then nodded at Abe to go on without her before walking back to the foot of the mattress where he had turned and sat up to face her.

"Do you think she'll really do it?" he asked softly.

She huffed out a bitter laugh and looked up at the ceiling, shaking her head. She wasn't sure if she was more disappointed in his self-centered question or in herself for thinking that he had called her back in to level with her.

"I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for Carl and Judith," he clarified based on her reaction.

"I honestly don't know, Rick," she said somberly.

"I know how much she respects you, so if there's anything you can say or do..."

"I already have and I will," she promised. She stared down at him as he stared back her. His change in tone prompted her to ask one more time, hoping for a different outcome. "Rick, why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't around," he answered honestly, but incorrectly in her opinion.

"I was just sitting around planning and hesitating, right?" she asked, calling back to the accusation he'd hurled at her yesterday in the thick of his meltdown. "I couldn't have been too hard to find."

"Michonne..."

"No. No," she repeated calmly, but certainly. "I've been inside these walls with you, under the same roof, sleeping in the next room over from you every night. I've been there."

"You hung up your sword, and went in a different direction," he said as he flung his arm to the side. "I had to protect this place," he said emphatically.

She tilted her head, trying to understand how this made sense to him. The threat persisted outside, but from everything she had seen, there was still no threat to them inside these walls. She'd warned him against looking for trouble just a few days earlier, but it seemed he couldn't help himself.

"From what?" she asked breathlessly. He stared back at her for a beat before turning his head to look away. She'd lost him again.

"I'm gonna go now..." she said quietly as she turned away.

xxx

" _Red bird, red bird, what do you see?_ Huh? What do you see, Judes?"

Michonne lifted the corner of the page ever so slightly to give her a clue. "What do Judes and the red bird see? Show me," she prompted again as the baby quickly caught on and turned the page, excitedly banging her hands on the new page and babbling at the sight of the yellow duck.

Michonne gasped in surprise for Judith's sake then read on. " _I see a yellow duck looking at me._ He looks like your rubber ducky, doesn't he? I wonder if his name is Melvin, too," she mused aloud as she chuckled to herself. Judith looked up curiously from her snug position in the space created by Michonne's crossed legs. Her brother had a habit of giving all of her toys and dolls the most random names he could come up with much to their misfortune, but her amusement. "Yeah, I hope not either," Michonne said as she wrinkled her nose then looked over Judith's head to read the next line of the book lying across her lap.

" _Yellow duck yellow duck, what do you see_?"

Before they could answer that question, however, Michonne heard the door open. She cursed inwardly that her peaceful alone time with Judith had come to an end, particularly since two of the three people that could be walking through that door had already succeeded in pissing her off that morning.

"What are you doing up?" Carol chirped from behind once she spotted the duo sitting on the couch.

"She woke up from her nap crying, so I got up with her," Michonne explained without looking up from the book and the little girl in her lap.

"Sorry about that. I had to run out to take care of something quickly, and I thought I'd make it back before she woke up. I can take her now," she said as she walked into the living room, holding out her arms with a smile.

"That's OK. We're good," she called out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carol turn to walk away, and she looked up to see that she had made her way into the kitchen where she busied herself with emptying the dishwasher. She hummed quietly as she moved about the kitchen in her khaki pants, denim shirt, and light yellow cardigan, opening and shutting cabinet doors and drawers as she put away the dishes. Just a few weeks ago, she'd walked side by side with this gun-toting, combat boot-wearing survivor through the back roads and woods of Virigina as they journeyed to Washington, D.C. It was a bleak time for the group, but she often found herself at Carol's side walking in companionable silence, sometimes even sharing a laugh or a moment of encouragement; but since they'd arrived in Alexandria, there had been no more of that. She thought that perhaps she was imagining things, but today's events showed that there was a sharp divide between the two women and it was bigger than she ever could have imagined.

"That was some tale you came up with for Rick," Michonne called out from her spot on the couch, unable to let that morning's conversation go.

Carol finished placing a stack of clean plates in the cabinet then closed the door and turned to face Michonne.

"He just needs to tell them a story that they want to hear, and they'll eat it up," she explained as she walked up to the kitchen island and placed her hands on the counter. "It's what I've been doing since I got here."

"Why?"

"Because these people are children and children like stories," she said unapologetically.

Michonne widened her eyes at the explanation, surprised to find her so forthcoming with her dismissal of their fellow community members.

"If they're just children, why go to all this trouble?" she challenged. "You're such a strong, smart woman. You have so much to offer them."

Carol tilted her head and gave Michonne a saccharine smile. She had the distinct feeling that Carol regarded her as a naive little child at this very moment for expressing that opinion.

"I want the best for our group, just like you do. If you're not a fan, I'm all right with that. You keep going about things your way, and just consider my way a safety. A back up plan…But look at us," Carol added as she pinched her cardigan for emphasis then pointed at Michonne. "Maybe we're really not so different."

Michonne looked down at the white wool sweater and black leather pants she wore then back at Carol.

"I'm actually trying here," Michonne countered.

"I am, too, Michonne," she said as she shut the door of the now empty dishwasher and headed off to her room.

xxx

As she stepped into the doorway of his bedroom, she found him sitting at the end of his bed, looking down at a gun in his hand, yet another gun that she wasn't aware of, but hardly surprised to see. She watched him for a moment before alerting him to her presence.

"Rick. You ready?"

"Carol and me..." he started without turning to face her, "we worked it out together. Carol took three guns from the armory. I still have one, she still has one." He lifted his head to look at her, taking in a shaky breath before continuing with his admission. "We lied to you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it, what you'd do," he finished as he extended his arm to her, offering the gun.

She didn't reach for the gun; instead she threw her black jacket on the bed and sighed. She didn't want to be mad or right, she just wanted to fix this and move on. She wanted her friend back, and his admission of the truth was all she needed.

"You think I'd try to stop you?"

He dropped his arm at the realization that she didn't want to take his gun now, and probably never would have.

"Well, you did hit me over the head," he quipped.

"That was for you, not them," she said clearly. She wanted there to be no doubt about her intentions or where her loyalties lied.

He breathed in deeply again then stood up from the bed and walked over to her so that they were standing face to face in the light of the window.

"I was afraid you'd talk me out of it. You could've."

"We don't need them here," she assured him with a gentle voice and soft smile. "I don't need my sword. I think you can find a way. _We_ can find a way," she clarified in response to the uncertain look on his face. "And if we don't... I'm still with you."

He stared back at her and exhaled as a sense of relief washed over him. He was scared and uncertain, but not alone.

"Something's gonna happen," she assured him. "Just don't make something happen."

He lifted the gun from his side once more, bringing it to the level of her waist, wanting to rid himself of the any potential barriers to their trust or safety, but she covered his hand with hers and returned it to his side. She trusted him: to know what he needed and to make the right decisions. She gave him one last looked before the picked up her jacket and left for the meeting.

"Don't be too long," she called out to him as she walked out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Just FYI, this chapter is a remix of the flashbacks from the season 6 premiere, so it's set between the morning after Pete and Reg's deaths, but before the quarry plan goes live. Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing-I'm grateful to have you along for this story. I'm excited we finally made it to this season because are so many great moments I have been looking forward to working with. Hope you enjoy!**

Face washed. Teeth brushed. Hair pulled back. Sweater, pants, and boots on. Michonne stood in front of the standing mirror in her room, not looking at her reflection, but rather just beyond it to the corner where her katana rested against the wall.

After Reg's senseless death the night before, she had made the decision to remove the katana from its short-lived home over the fireplace, returning it to her custody where she, and she alone, would be responsible for its use. As she stood there in the light of a brand new day, she now wondered how this would work. She picked up the sword and slipped the strap over her shoulder then looked at herself. Her eyes drawn to hilt of the sword peeking out from over her shoulder. _We don't need them here._ She still wanted to believe that, but the past twelve hours had all but dashed that hope. She lifted the strap up over her head and returned the katana to its place in the corner. She then walked over to her dresser, opening the top left drawer and shifting her intimates to the side to uncover a small knife with a leather belt clip. She removed it and slid the drawer shut then attached the holder to her belt, unsheathing the four inch blade for quick inspection before returning it to its holder. She then exited the room, shutting the door behind her, and made her way down the stairs and out the front door to take a few laps around the block to get some fresh air and stretch her legs before going to the Infirmary to visit Tara.

"He went that way to check in on Morgan a few minutes ago, if you care," Daryl called out to her before she had even stepped off the porch.

She tilted her head to the side, giving him an annoyed look while she walked toward the curb, just in front of the spot in the street where he was working on his motorcycle.

"I said _if you care_ …" in response to her look.

She ignored him, and changed the subject as she pointed at the bike.

"You fixing to leave us again?"

"Apparently not," he answered glumly. "Rick doesn't think we need to be out there looking for people right now. Way I see it, though, we're down two more…" he said as he finished tightening the fastener he was working on before looking up at her. "What the hell happened here?"

"I don't even know," she said as she shook her head in exasperation at the events of the past few days.

"That ain't like you, Michonne. You're always on it, picking things up when he's falling down."

"Not sure how much you can do when everyone's falling down at the same time, even me depending on who you ask…"

Daryl grunted indifferently in response as he returned his attention to his motorcycle maintenance.

"Do whatever you think is best, but just know I wouldn't mind you sticking around for a bit. May help restore the balance around here..."

"Yeah, all right," he mumbled.

She took off down the street, passing their group's second house then the Anderson's. She looked up to see the piece of plywood that was covering their front window, a reminder of the fight which was the first in a series of unfortunate events that she hoped had finally ended. She rounded the corner and walked past the main gate then on toward the armory. Once she was almost past it, a set of scaffolding came into her view, peeking out slightly from behind the building. She spotted Dev, his hair pulled back and wearing a faded pair of paint splattered jeans and a white long sleeved t-shirt, sitting on the raised platform in front of the wall, the top quarter of which was painted solid white.

"Hey," she called out as she walked up onto the curb and around the back of the armory.

He looked down from his spot to see her now standing at the base of the scaffolding, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.

"Hey," he returned. He was still warm, but more subdued than usual.

"You started without me?" she asked pointing at the spread of white on the wall.

"It's just the primer."

"Yeah, but that's all I'm fit to do."

"Somehow I doubt that," he said managing a small grin as he looked down at her. "I'm going on a run in a few days, and I wanted it to be prepped so I can start when I get back. It's also a decent distraction. Come on up."

She hesitated for a moment, feeling as though there was something else that she should be doing instead, but came up with nothing. No job, no emergency, and her visit with Tara could wait a few minutes. He watched as she nimbly climbed up the bars running up the side and stepped onto the platform, checking to make sure there wasn't any wet paint on it before lowering herself into the empty space next time him. He reached back and handed her a clean paint brush then pulled the tray of primer between them.

"Thought I'd been let go from another job…" she said dryly, attempting to achieve some levity; although the thought did sting. Having never been fired from a job in her past life, the possibility of losing two non-paying volunteer gigs in less than 48 hours was not something she was proud of.

Dev looked at her and gave a sympathetic pout, having heard Deanna announce that Michonne had been "relieved of her duties" at Rick's hearing the previous night.

"She'll come around," he assured her. "She's got a lot to work through right now."

Michonne nodded knowingly. The woman had not only lost her one half of her family, but she had a community in crisis right now, and Michonne's problems now paled in comparison to hers. They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, looking out over the walls from their high perch. It was a quiet, sunny day. There were scattered, single walkers, but they were being taken out by whomever was in the watchtower. Given the speed and precision with which it was being done, she'd venture a guess that Sasha was on duty.

"Last night…" Dev started somberly, his voice pulling her attention away from the outside, "walkers are one thing, but seeing a man take the life of another? You've seen that before?"

"Yeah," she confirmed quietly. _Not just seen_ she thought to herself. He wore a pained expression that told her that this was the first time he'd been exposed to it.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I...it's not something you should ever get used to," she assured him. He nodded finding some comfort from her validation of his feelings. He wasn't too soft, he was just human.

"Reg was a good man. He's the reason I'm here."

Michonne set her paint brush down at her side and gave Dev her full attention.

"I was wondering how that came about. Going from London to Alexandria."

"I was on a long term assignment in D.C., and my company put me up in a condo that happened to neighbor the one they stayed in while Deanna was in session. I met Reg down in the lobby one day, the doorman introduced us actually, and we hit it off. We talked movies, football or soccer, rather, the news," he reminisced. "When the epidemic started, they grounded all international flights so I couldn't get back home. Deanna tried to use her pull to get me on a military charter to Europe with foreign diplomats and officials, but it didn't work out, so they told me to come to Ohio with them because they didn't want to leave me alone. We were diverted to this place while we were on the road, and the rest is history."

"So you've been here from the start..."

"I have. I helped Reg build these walls then after that, I checked out. I went on runs and helped around the community, but I never imagined it would last, so I never invested that much into it. Here we are two years later, though, and what have I really done?"

"Walls and supplies?" she asked incredulously. "You've helped ensure the safety and sustainability of the community."

"The other day, you asked why I hadn't used my previous work experience to help Deanna, and I gave you some reasons. None of them good, though," he said as he looked out over the wall, a bit lost in his thoughts. "I can't help but think that if I had, things may have turned out differently."

"How?"

"Maybe Reg would still be here," he offered first as he looked back at her.

"You can't blame yourself for what Pete did."

"Are you telling me you you don't blame yourself? I saw the look on your face when you took that sword from him."

"No," she said quietly as she dropped her chin to her chest and looked down toward the ground. "I can't tell you that."

"So you understand all of the what-if's that are running through my head right now," he asked as he watched her nod in agreeance. "If some of the others and me would have stepped up and put pressure on Deanna to deal with the Pete situation earlier, maybe none of this would have happened."

"You knew about Pete?" she asked looking back at him.

"Everyone did," he said shaking his head with disgust, mostly for Pete, but also at his own complacency. "I almost got my ass kicked for bringing Jessie and the boys a set of oil paints a few months ago. He was a problem that we let get out of hand. Deanna didn't act, but we were complicit because we never said anything. There's so much more, but…" he hung his head low, grasping at his temples with his thumb and forefinger before running his hand down over his face.

Michonne placed her hand on his back, gently rubbing it for a moment before she pulled it away. She recognized a familiar mix of regret and loneliness in him; a pain she knew well, one that seemed to come back no matter how many times she thought she'd put it behind her.

"So you change going forward," she said as she leaned down to catch his eye. "That's the name of the game." And it truly was; what sounded like hollow advice was, in fact, the key to survival.

He closed his eyes tightly, then finally lifted his chin to look at her.

"You've made a big impression on me, Michonne."

"Me?" she asked as she sat up and straightened her back.

"Yes. I know that sounds crazy since I hardly know anything about you-nothing, actually, except that you have some kind of connection to art," he said shaking his head, "but it's not for lack of trying."

"It's not personal," she said in almost a whisper, feeling slightly guilty for constantly rebuffing his attempts to get to know her.

"I'd hoped so as. The thing is, though, I still like you. There's something about you...I imagine we were similar people before everything changed. High achievers, did well in school then at work. Married to your career, but finding time for interests, like art and travel or whatever else you liked. The difference is, though, that you took your abilities and used them to become the best version of yourself in this world, and I didn't. I let too much go, but you're making me see that, and you're making me want to try." Michonne was still, feeling a bit stunned by the words he was saying to her. He'd sensed certain things about her, but there was so much he didn't know. Regardless, though, she couldn't imagine how her life could be aspirational to someone else when she was so unsure of what she was doing herself at this moment. "It might be too late, but-"

xxx

Rick darted out of the house upon learning from Carl that Michonne wasn't home, and set off on a lap around the neighborhood to find her, figuring Deanna's or the Infirmary would be the next most likely places she'd be. He came to a stop across the street from the armory, though, when he spotted her atop some temporary scaffolding set up next to the wall just behind the building. He watched her for a moment, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge while facing the outside. Her hands grasped the edge of the platform as she leaned forward and toward her companion, listening intently to whatever he was saying. The man was younger, taller, and lankier than him with a darker complexion and hair. He'd seen him in passing, but didn't know anything about him, not even his name. His initial response was one of surprise at seeing Michonne seeming so familiar with this man, but he wasn't even sure if his surprise was warranted or not since much of how Michonne spent her time had become a mystery to him since entering the walls. He began to walk away, not wanting to interrupt her or perhaps even intrude on something he wasn't sure he was supposed to be seeing, but he stopped himself and turned back because he didn't want to keep this from her.

"Michonne?" he called up, taking both her and her friend by surprise, causing them to stop talking and turn to look at him. "Afternoon," he said nodding at the man before looking at Michonne. "Can I have a word?"

He watched as she excused herself from her companion then quickly scaled down the scaffolding with that graceful form of athleticism she possessed; he smiled to himself as he was usually in the thick of action with her and rarely got to see it from afar, a feat all the more impressive when done in the nice, new clothing she'd been sporting as of late. She walked toward him and then led him a few steps farther, stopping and looking at him expectantly when they were finally out of earshot.

"What are you up to?" he asked while pointing back at the half painted wall.

"Just helping Dev with a project."

"What kind of project?" he questioned with genuine curiosity.

"It's…" she hesitated for a moment before deciding not to elaborate given she was still smarting over his jab at her softer lifestyle in Alexandria, "nothing. What's up?"

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt you like this, but something came up that I didn't think should wait."

She nodded and continued to look at him, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed hard, then rubbed at the scruff on his chin nervously before continuing.

"When Morgan and I went out today, we came upon a huge herd trapped in a quarry just a few miles down Branton Road."

"How many are we talking?" she asked. The awkwardness between them quickly dissipated as she seamlessly transitioned to strategizing with him. It was a type of conversation that flowed with easily between them, the one where they felt most comfortable with each other.

"Hundreds, pushing a thousand maybe?"

"A thousand?" she repeated, her eyes wide at the implication of a threat like that.

"Closer to it than not. There are two semi's blocking the exit, and some walkers are already slipping through. One of those semi's falls or one hard rain-"

"And they're at our gates within a few days…" she finished automatically. "I guess this is how they've gotten by here without any major problems."

"Exactly. We got damn lucky with this break, and now we gotta act on it."

"So what do you want to do?" she asked assuming he'd already come up with something and merely wanted her support on it. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling slightly silly that his plan was literally just to talk to her.

"I haven't gotten there yet. I wanted to come to you first. See what you thought. I don't even know where I stand with Deanna, so I figured we could come up with something and go to her together."

"Well, I'm not sure where I stand with her either so I don't know how much good that'll do," she said coolly.

"What do you mean?"

"She asked me to step down the other night," she explained knowing that Rick hadn't heard the announcement since he missed his public forum the previous night.

"What? Why?" he sputtered.

"She thought it was for the best with everything that happened."

"Why didn't you tell me? I can talk to her, tell her you had nothing to do with the guns."

"She knows, but she was worried about how it would look to everyone else," she said with a shrug.

He paused for a moment and looked at her remorsefully, inhaling deeply and sighing through his nose, his lips pressed together in a small frown. He'd lied to her, disappointed her, and come to find out, caused her to lose the position she'd sought out and put so much of her time into. Time that was meant to translate into a better life for his children, themselves, and the community.

"I'm sorry, Michonne. I had no idea."

"It is what it is," she said in lieu of accepting his apology.

He paused again, taking a deep breath in and out, before stepping in closer to her and bending slightly so that his face was level with hers.

"You said something's gonna happen, right?"

She nodded silently in response.

"Deanna has to act on this, and she has no idea how. She needs us. There's no way around it," he explained. "Look, I know that we've been seeing things differently lately," he said as he placed his right hand flat on his chest, "but I know you want to keep this place safe, so I'm asking for your help with this. If we can take care of this herd before it becomes a problem, I'm hoping that it'll go a long way towards righting the things I did, keeping us here, and getting you back to the work you were doing." He stayed bent down at her level, searching her face for a reaction until she shut her eyes briefly before nodding.

"Rick, I told you that no matter what our assignments were, we would always work together to keep this place safe. There should never be any question about that." She watched as he straightened up, visibly relieved to have her on board. "Just let me finish up here then I'll meet you back at the house so that we can get started."

"OK…"

She turned away from him, and he watched as she walked back towards Dev, who was now on the ground awaiting her return as he leaned against the scaffolding fiddling with the paintbrush in his hand. Just before she reached him, Rick peeled his eyes away from her and turned to head back to their home.

xxx

"My team...we came across the quarry early on when we were on one of our first scouting trips of the area," Dev explained as he shifted his focus from the roomful of his friends and neighbors to Michonne who stood just a few feet from him, her arms folded across her chest as she listened intently. "There was a camp at the bottom. I assume the people must have blocked the exits with one of those trucks when everything started going bad, but they didn't make it. They were all roamers, only about a dozen of them when we found them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie asked from her seat on the couch.

"No. D.C. and every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction. It didn't seem like the best use of our resources to head back in that direction. That was my call." He shifted in place as he owned up to his decision, something he was surprised to find himself defending two years after the fact.

"Of course," Michonne said, validating his decision, before turning her head toward the front of the room where Rick stood looking back at her. "So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound, and they're making more sound and drawing more in," she deduced.

"And here we are," he said with a sigh, nodding at her before looking up to address the entire room. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn't about if it gives, it's when. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

Michonne's eyes darted around the room as she tried to gauge the reaction of their fellow community members to Rick's plan. Although they'd drafted this plan together before engaging Daryl, Morgan, and Glenn for support prior to the meeting; Michonne had suggested that Rick present it to Deanna and the group since his reputation was most in need of repairing at this time. She was met with mostly blank stares and apprehensive looks, the most animated of all belonging to her roommate.

"This is…" Carol stammered nervously as she looked around the room. "I don't even have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way." Michonne didn't care for her melodramatic delivery, but she had to appreciate her effort to rally the community's support for this plan.

"Maybe there is," Dev wondered aloud drawing Michonne's attention back to him. "Couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg," he offered, earnest, though misguided. "Construction crew," he said looking at Tobin and Bruce, "we can try and make it safe."

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day. Building up the exits won't change that," Rick practically scoffed as he waved his hand dismissively at the idea.

"We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out," Deanna said firmly as she stared out of her living room window, where she'd stood with her back to the crowd throughout the entire meeting.

"I told you all, we're gonna have Daryl leading them away," Rick continued.

"Me, too," Sasha volunteered. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. Can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy." Rick nodded in appreciation.

"I'll go with her," Abe offered unsolicited. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo." Rick again nodded, in agreement with his assessment and with appreciation for his support.

"We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly," Rick said as he pointed out the community's newest snipers. "So they're out. So who's in?"

Rick looked out across the room, met with silence and inaction despite Deanna's endorsement of their plan.

"Me," said the voice to his immediate right after a beat. He looked over to acknowledge Michonne, but found her looking down then away, seemingly avoiding his eye contact. He supposed she felt silly volunteering a plan that was as much hers as his, but she was playing the game.

"I'm in," Glenn followed after quietly conferring with Maggie.

"Who else? We need more," Rick said as he scanned the silent room.

"I just have to wonder if there's another play," Dev asked. Michonne could tell by his calm, rational approach that he wasn't trying to be adversarial, he was only expressing his concern. "I'm worried about controlling that many walkers."

"I said it before," Rick repeated with agitation as he cocked his head to one side, "walkers herd up."

"They'll follow a path if something's drawing them," Michonne cut in as she looked to Dev, hoping to avoid a blow up while reassuring and educating him and the others at the same time. "That's how we can get them all at once."

Dev nodded his head then looked down to the floor. He knew she was right and he trusted her judgment given her experience, but he still had his doubts about the plan.

"I'll do it," David volunteered.

"Me, too," Francine said from her spot next to him.

"Whatever you need," Dev said looking up at Michonne. "I'm in."

Michonne gave him an appreciative look then turned her attention to the room as several others followed suit and began to lend their support to the plan.

"We'll make this work. We'll keep this place safe. Keep our families safe. We will," Rick promised, looking both satisfied with and encouraged by the swell in support. He looked to Michonne with a trace of a grin which she returned with a nod. He was determined, hopeful, and inclusive in his statement to the group; he still had much to prove to these people, but she saw a flash of the fierce, protective leader she knew him to be.


	8. Chapter 8

"Michonne?"

She turned her head slowly to the right, surprised at being directly addressed by Morgan for the first time ever. He was Rick's friend, and any interaction she'd had with him until that point was through their mutual friend.

"Yeah?"

"Back when you were in that place…" She tilted her head with as he left her hanging with his bizarre start; one bizarre enough that it had piqued Rick's interest, as well, as he began to listen in to their exchange. "...where I lived... did you take one of my protein bars?"

Michonne's face stayed frozen for a beat as the actual question sunk in, then her face relaxed and she straightened back up, huffing out a short laugh before answering.

"No."

"See, I could have sworn there was one more peanut butter left."

She rolled her head forward and sighed. "That's how it is, isn't it? You always think there's one more peanut butter left…"

And just like that, silence fell over the trio again as they stood in the middle of the road awaiting the approaching herd.

"You figure we have about ten or fifteen minutes before they get here?" she asked glancing over at Rick.

"At least."

"I'm gonna grab another round from the RV then." He looked over to see her patting the holstered gun on her left hip. "Just in case."

He nodded then watched as she walked straight ahead to the parked RV. Gun, katana, tank, and leather vest; a familiar and fitting ensemble for one of their first forays to the outside the walls again.

"Be right back," he muttered to Morgan before taking off for the RV himself.

He climbed up rickety metal steps and opened the door to find her on her knees in the narrow aisle of the living area, digging through the drawer tucked under the small bench seat. She looked up at the loud creaking sound made by the rusted door to find Rick closing it behind him.

"I thought we put the supplies down here," she said before continuing to dig through the contents of the drawer.

He stepped to her side and opened one of the cabinets mounted just above the window, quickly finding a spare magazine for her gun. He took it in his hand and lowered it to his side to flash in front of her eyes. She shut the drawer and stood up finding herself face to face with him then gave him a curious look, having sworn she was looking in the right place

"I couldn't sleep last night and ended up rearranging some things," he explained as he offered it to her.

"Thanks."

He watched as she looked down and busied herself with checking the clip in her gun then finding a spare space on her person for the extra ammo. She was deft with her gun now, and while she was never bad at the beginning, she had certainly taken her training seriously and it showed.

"Hey Michonne?"

"Yeah?" she asked, her eyes still focused on her gun as she slid it back into her holster.

"When you were back in that place…" he started slowly, the feeling of deja vu causing her to look up at him in confusion, "I told you not to steal his food," he finished seriously, though the slight grin tugging at the corner of her mouth gave him away.

"Shut up," she said as she shook her head.

"You got caught," he said, that grin just a little more prominent now, and definitely smug.

"He scared the hell out of me starting off like that... _back in that place_ …" she repeated, shaking her head, "because I've been in some places, and I wasn't interested in having that conversation with him."

Rick laughed knowingly because he'd certainly gone places, too; in fact, he was coming to see that he was still gone, but starting to feel a little more like himself with each day lately.

"I didn't take his damn peanut butter bar, though," she stated for the record. "Crackers? Yes, but not that bar."

"Uh huh."

"I didn't," she reiterated. "It's funny, though...I've noticed that peanut butter goes fast in our house. I could have sworn I opened up a new jar a few days ago, and there's maybe a quarter left?"

"Hmm." He nodded and squinted his eyes with exaggerated interest.

"Yeah, that's a lot of peanut butter. A whole lot...like I can just picture someone sitting there eating it by the spoonful right out of the jar in the middle of the night. I wouldn't put it past someone like that to steal a peanut butter bar…"

"We should probably get on that problem next…"

"We should…" she replied dryly. She stayed straight-faced staring back at him for a moment before he finally turned his head away with a small smirk, amused by their small exchange, but still unwilling to confirm or deny his involvement in this incident.

"That all you need?" he asked as he glanced back at her and nodded at the gun.

"Yeah."

"We good with the plan?" he asked, taking advantage of their alone time to discuss strategy if needed.

"Still good."

"All right," he said as he turned to the side to allow her to pass by him, clapping his hand on her shoulder as she did. He walked out behind her, feeling a bit more at ease; her confidence made him more confident. Their plan hadn't gone as scheduled, but it was going according to plan. They'd hit their marks, do what they needed to do, and get home in time for dinner; just a normal day's work he told himself.

xxx

"It's coming from back home. It has to be," Dev said of the interminable horn-like sound that had been blaring for the past few minutes.

He looked to Michonne, standing by his side, as they paused to wait for the stragglers to catch up with them. He used the moment to catch his breath, as well, since the constant running and burst of adrenaline had him winded.

"He did this," one of the Alexandrians huffed out as he approached them. "He brought us all out here to die. _He_ killed Carter," he said pointing ahead at Rick.

Michonne's face contorted at his fundamental lack of understanding. The walker bite to the face had killed Carter, Rick's knife to the back of his head had ended his suffering and saved the rest of the group.

"Carter was dead already," she spat back causing Dev to look over at her, having never heard her use that tone of voice.

"Now they're in trouble back there and we're done. We're good as dead," the man rattled on with panic.

"Hey, calm down," she commanded.

"What the hell are you talking about? We are done. And it's 'cause of him."

Michonne didn't have the time or the patience for this conversation or this man any longer.

"Shut up and move. Come on," she hissed. He stared back at for a moment, unhappy with her directive. Dev looked between his new and old friend, realizing that they wouldn't find any understanding with each other now.

"Whatever happened, it doesn't change the fact that there's still only one way out," Dev explained calmly. "We all just want to get home."

The man nodded and picked up his pace again, running ahead as Dev and Michonne hung back to take up the rear.

"He's scared, Michonne," he said in a hushed voice as he caught her eye before they started moving again.

"I understand which is all the more reason he needs to stop thinking and just do as told right now. If they stay in line, we can keep everyone alive," she assured him, her voice softer, but unapologetic. She turned her eyes forward then launched back into a run to meet back up with the group that had gathered in a clearing a few yards ahead. As she came up to the group, Rick began to address them.

"All right, listen up. Here's the new plan. I go back, get the RV, circle around the woods on Redding. I'll get in front of them before they get there. I can lead them away again. RV's a mile back."

"I can go with you," David volunteered.

"I'll handle it. Just get home. They might need you there," he said before seeking out his people. "Glenn, Michonne."

They looked at each other then left the group to follow Rick who had begun walking away, seeking some privacy.

"If something's in front of you, you kill it," he began before arriving to a spot out of earshot from the others. He stopped and turned to face them. "No hiding, no waiting. You keep going," he said adamantly as he looked between them.

"I'm going with you," Glenn said. "You can't do this on your own."

"Glenn, I can do this," Rick stressed.

"You need to help me," Michonne whispered to Glenn. "We've got to get these people back."

"Yeah. Thing is, they aren't all gonna make it," Rick said in response to her ambitious statement.

"Rick," she chided.

"You try to save them, you try," he allowed, "but if hey can't keep up, you keep going. You have to. You make sure you get back," he said as his eyes darted between his two friends before landing on hers and holding her gaze for a moment. He didn't dare tell her what to do, but he needed her to hear that. She nodded slightly before breaking eye contact with him, looking down at her side where she pulled her extra magazine out of her holster.

"Here," she said offering it to him. "Take it."

He kept his hands on his hips, not making a move to accept her offer.

"No, you grabbed it for a reason."

"I've got back up, you won't," she pointed out as she extended her hand further toward him.

He looked down at the extra ammo in her hand, and sighed, wanting to tell her that all she had were liabilities and no back up at all, but he refrained and just shook his head to decline her offer. Any push back from her, though, was interrupted by the sound of screaming coming from behind them. Rick, Glenn, and Michonne instinctively broke into a full sprint to find one of their group members, separated from the rest, struggling on the ground under the cover of a walker.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!" he cried out as Rick bent down and tore the walker from him, taking the skin covering his throat with him in his teeth. Michonne quickly dispatched the walker by driving her katana through its skull.

Dev, now joined by the the others, looked on in horror as their friend laid on the ground, choking on his own blood. Michonne looked up at their terrified faces then back at the man laying in front of her, the one she had just exchanged words with, the one who was so certain he was going to die. She took a deep breath then drove the point of her katana through his skull just as she had the walker, avoiding the eyes of the others as she looked to Rick and Glenn. The group's moment of silence then became deafening as the the sound of the horn came to an abrupt stop.

"The horn stopped. Good," Rick said as he circled around the body and crouched at his side stripping him of his gun and knife then emptying the contents of his pockets as Dev and the others looked on with dismay. "Get back safe," he said as he stuffed the items in his satchel and promptly set off toward the RV.

xxx

"There you go," Michonne said as she smoothed the edges of the duct tape that secured a clean piece of cloth over the wound on David's shoulder then pulled at the collar of his shirt to cover up his makeshift dressing.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes searching for hers as she shifted back onto her heels.

"No problem. That'll have to do until we get you home," she said with a weak smile. "Just sit and rest for a bit."

She pushed herself up into a standing position then looked around the darkened, abandoned pet shop for the next matter that needed her attention. Glenn and Nicholas had left in search of the feed store in hopes of setting it on fire to create a diversion so they could get out before the herd hit the tiny main street they were holed up in. She and Dev were left tending to the injured: Heath, Annie, and David. She spotted Dev's head pop up above the shelves in the adjoining storage room, and walked over to join him. When she reached him, he was sorting through boxes of what looked to be aquarium supplies, not looking up to acknowledge her presence.

"David's still hanging in there, no fever yet," she whispered as she stood against the shelf watching him work. "He told me about his wife…"

"Betsy," he said, pausing for a moment without looking up. "She's going to be devastated. She lost her first husband almost the same way."

"Well, he probably has a few more hours. If he stays strong enough, he can make it home to her," she said hopefully.

"To die in front of her," he said flatly as he paused again, finally looking up at her. "Is that any better?"

"It is…and it's what he wants," she said certainly as she stared back at him. In her experience and her friends', closure was one of the greatest gifts you could give to your loved ones. He slid an empty box off the shelf and onto the floor then braced his hands on the shelf as he cursed under his breath. "What are you looking for?"

"Something I can use to make a crutch for Annie..." he said. Once she had direction, Michonne started going through the contents of the shelf in front of where she was standing. "I'm not sure I'm going to manage to make it back on my own with two injured people, but I've got to try for these two…" he mumbled to himself.

" _On your own_?" she asked, confused by his assertion.

"Look, I heard what Rick said," Dev said evenly as he turned to face her.

"Which part?"

"How they wouldn't all make it. _They_ meaning us and not you. How you should leave us behind if we can't keep up."

"Glenn is out there risking his life for you and for everyone else and I'm still here…" she gently reminded him. "Rick only said what he said because sometimes you don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," he countered as she shook his head. "That's not how we do it."

"Sometimes there's not," she said with regret. It wasn't how she wanted it, but it was reality. "You just haven't had to do it any other way yet."

"You're better than that," he said in a low voice, his eyes wide and searching her face for the person he thought she was, _hoped_ she was.

"Dev-"

"You are, I mean, you have to be, right? With all of your talk about the building a better community and instilling hope in people, I don't see how you can believe that."

"Dev, you don't understand. You haven't been through it yet, not really."

He looked at her shaking his head in disappointment. "I know that going Rick's way won't lead you toward those things you want," he said tersely. "I do know that, Michonne."

She huffed out a breath from her open mouth feeling winded as if she'd been punched in the gut. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard, turning her head as she tried to let the heat of the moment pass before responding, but when she turned to look at him again and opened her mouth, she knew that there was no way to stop the hot words that threatened to spill from it.

"Have you ever had to kill people because they had already killed your friends and were coming for you next? Have you ever done things that made you feel afraid of yourself afterward?" she pressed as she inched into his space with each question. "Have you ever been covered in so much blood that you didn't know if it was yours or walkers' or your friends'? Huh? Then you don't know." She stared hard into his eyes for a moment, her lip trembling with anger, until she retreated, taking a few steps back as she breathed deeply.

"I'm sorry," he eked out pathetically.

"...you didn't know," she finished for him. _But now you do_ she thought to herself as she turned around and grabbed loose parts from an aquarium stand that laid on the ground behind her. "This should work," she said as she handed the pile of black iron pieces to him. "Hurry up because as soon as Glenn and Nicholas make it back, you, me, David, Annie, and Heath need to get out of here. We're losing our lead on the herd."

She turned away and walked back toward the main storeroom where she'd left David sitting on the ground with his back against the cash wrap. She gave him a weak smile then put her back against counter and slid down to join him as she stared blankly ahead.

xxx

"Oh my God."

The smell of smoke had filled her senses and caused a pang of worry deep in her gut before clearing the forest edge and confirming her worst fears. Smoke billowed from within the walls, and the front end of a semi-truck was crashed into their walls, taking the bottom corner of the tower out with it.

"What the hell happened here?" Dev asked breathlessly as he paused to take in the obvious trouble in front of him.

Michonne wordlessly shook her head and ducked out from under Heath's arm, leaving the injured man to be supported by Dev as she unsheathed her katana and walked ahead to the gate. She looked up at the closest platform to find Aaron standing guard and waved to get his attention. Without a word he disappeared from her sight and within a few seconds the gate was opening before her. She jogged back and pulled Heath's arm across her shoulders to help support him again. As they ushered him through the gates, Aaron looked on uneasily, his friends' conditions a sign of trouble on the outside, as well. Michonne paused for a moment as she was met with dead bodies, some familiar and some not, strewn on the nearest lawn and the dark red stains of blood streaked across the road in front of her. She looked back at Aaron and looked at him with wide, questioning eyes.

"We were attacked. It's over," he managed to say, still shellshocked from the events of the past hour.

Her eyes immediately strained to get a view of her house at the other end of the block.

"Go," Dev said as he saw the panic on her face then followed her line of sight to her home.

"We'll get him into the Infirmary first," she said mechanically, her eyes still focused down the street.

"I've got him, Michonne. Go."

She looked to Dev and nodded a quick thanks before taking off in a sprint towards her home, passing bodies of her neighbors and their attackers along the way. She ran up the steps and tried to turn the handle of the front door which was locked. She frantically dug into her pocket producing her key. Her trembling hands made it difficult the pass the key into the keyhole, but she steadied herself long enough to successfully unlock it then stepped into the house. A quick scan revealed that everything was in its place with no signs of damage, but no signs of life either. She ran into the center of the living room, turning in place to take a look at the ground floor.

"Rick! Carl! Carol!" she yelled as she began opening doors to closets, the pantry, and laundry room to look for them.

"Carl!" she shouted again as she headed toward the stairs.

"Michonne."

She looked up to find him calling down to her from the landing of the second floor, and hurried up the stairs to meet him.

Once she was close enough, she reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him firmly against her. She squeezed him tighter as he circled his arms around her waist hugging her back. She took a few moments to breathe in relief before stepping back from him, her hands still resting on his shoulders as she gave him a once over looking for any signs of harm.

"You're OK?" she panted as she caught her breath.

"Yeah. Is it over?"

"It looks like it...I don't even know, I came straight here. What happened?"

"These people, they just came in from every direction. Slashing people, setting them on fire. I only saw the start from up here. Carol left me to look after Judith while she went out to help."

"Is she in there?" Michonne asked at the mention of her name, her eyes looking toward their bedroom. Carl nodded and followed her into his bedroom where Judith sat on a blanket in the middle of the floor, mindlessly flipping through one of her books. Michonne knelt in front of her, her eyes beginning to water at the sight of the beautiful, oblivious child.

"Hey Judes," she cooed as she took the book from the child's hands and set it on the ground before scooping her up into her arms, and cradling her against her chest. Judith's tiny head rested in the crook of Michonne's neck as she gently rubbed her back, more for her comfort than the baby's.

"Has Carol been back yet?" she asked as she looked up at Carl who was regarding them with a worried look on his face. Michonne's reaction was setting off alarms for him.

"No...where's my dad?"

"He didn't make it back yet?" Her face fell at his question. She was certain he would have beat them back, especially with the delays they'd experienced from the herd at the pet shop.

"You're the first person I've seen," he answered, obviously unaware of everything that had happened outside of the walls.

"One of the trucks fell at the quarry so we had to go live with the plan, and it was working until the sound from that horn pulled the back end of the herd off the road. Your dad and I had to split up. Glenn and I were supposed to lead a group back here, and your dad was going to get the RV so he could round up the herd again, get them back on track."

"Do you think he made it there?"

She looked at him, pausing for a moment, as she absently stroked Judith's back.

"Of course. It's Rick…" she said, realizing she was trying to convince herself as much as Carl, "your dad."

"We should take a car out and look for him," he suggested leading her to believe that she'd done a poor job of hiding her concern.

"We could, but let's just-"

"Carl? Michonne?"

Their heads turned at the familiar voice sounding from downstairs.

"Up here!" Carl yelled back as he looked at Michonne and flashed her something short of a smile, an inscrutable look she could only describe as something like relief.

The footsteps drew closer and closer, and they both looked to the door in time to see Rick appear. His shirt was drenched in blood and sweat, and his chest was heaving in and out deeply as he caught his breath. Her eyes traveled up to his face and were drawn immediately to his glassy eyes that were focused on his children; his face, neck, and shoulders collapsed at the sight of them, and he grabbed onto the doorframe as if to keep his legs from going down, as well.

"You made it," Carl said as he walked toward him. Rick dropped his hands from the doorframe and slung them over his son's shoulders, embracing him tightly as he fell into him causing them to stumble back a few steps until they steadied themselves closer to where Michonne was standing with Judith watching them.

"Yeah," he breathed out as he pressed his chin to the top of his son's head. He looked up at Michonne in front of him then down at his daughter in her arms. He straightened up and released Carl from his embrace, but kept one hand on his shoulder as he stepped in closer to Michonne and placed his other hand on his daughter's back then pressed a long kiss on top of her head. Before he pulled away, he moved his hand from Judith's back to Michonne's arm, letting it linger there for a moment. He let out a long sigh before looking down at Carl.

"Why don't you take your sister downstairs? Me and Michonne will be right down."

"OK," Carl said as he moved to reach for his sister then head downstairs as asked. They both watched as he left the room then looked toward each other.

"You OK?" he asked pointing at her shirt. She looked down, unsure of what he was referring to until she saw her once white tank top now covered in blood which had dried to a dark brown color and stiffened.

"Yeah, it's not mine," she reassured him. "Your hand…"

He lifted his left hand turned it back and forth in front of him, regarding the blood soaked bandage wrapped across it occupying the space between his watch and wedding band.

"Eh, it's nothing. Just cut it on a knife," he said hoarsely as he returned it to his side. They quietly looked at each other for a moment, before Michonne finally spoke.

"I lost them all except for Dev and Heath," she said quietly and shamefully as if confessing her sins to a priest.

"I told you they wouldn't all make it-" he started.

"Glenn, too," she added quickly. "He and Nicholas got separated from us...and we ended up having to leave."

He nodded wearily, trying not to let the worry show on his face for her sake.

"Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham are still out there, too," he admitted in turn. "I never met up with them. The RV didn't start and I…" he shook his head and went silent. Since he was standing here in front of her, she knew how that story ended.

"We'll go out and look for them," she said decidedly. "We left the jeep behind in case something like this happened-"

"We can't."

"Then I'll go, you can stay here in case that group comes back-" she offered before he cut her off again.

"Michonne, we _can't_ ," he repeated in a shaky voice which caused her to tilt her head questioningly at him.

He placed his hand at the small of her back and led her to the window in the corner of her bedroom where he paused for a moment and drew in a deep breath causing her to look up at him with concern.

"Rick?"

His hand pulled the curtain back, and the bright light that streamed into the dim room caused her to look away and blink her eyes several times to adjust to the light before she could turn back toward the window. She opened her eyes to see the street below and then her eyes traveled up to the wall. The white noise she had attributed to the quiet house quickly revealed itself as something far more ominous as her eyes focused beyond the wall at the sea of walkers that had surrounded them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Past, Present, and Future**

"If we can somehow get outside the walls, get back to our cars at the quarry, we could use them to draw them away," Rick brainstormed aloud as he stood on his front porch, leaned against the railing, and looking out over the community.

"We'll set up more watch points. Coordinate the shooting of guns and flares so we could pull them out in even directions," Michonne added on.

"We'd need to get all our people on it. Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol."

"What about everybody else?"

"Well, let's just keep this to our own for now," Rick said he as he straightened into a standing position and turned to face her, seeing the disapproving look that matched her tone and question.

"Really?"

"Look, if we had the time to bring the people along, sure. But we haven't had a chance to catch our breath," he tried to explain.

"Really?" she challenged again before sighing and looking away. "We're in here together. We're catching our breath right now. Anything else is just excuses."

"Michonne, they're not ready. That's not an excuse. It's a fact. How many of them did we lose out there yesterday?" he asked rhetorically.

"Five," she answered solemnly. "Maybe six depending on Nicholas."

 _Of course she knew that_ he thought to himself. She could probably name each and every one of them, as well. Before he was able to respond, however, the sound of footsteps caused him to break his gaze from Michonne's.

"Deanna," he said in way of a greeting to the woman climbing the steps of their porch.

"Rick. Michonne," she greeted as she came to stand in front of them, softening her tone and giving Michonne a small smile as she said her name. Michonne turned to face her, both her and Rick's eyes being drawn to the roll of paper in her hand.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Plans...for the expansion," she announced as her eyes landed on Michonne.

She offered the the plans to her as if they were an olive branch, a gesture that wasn't lost on Michonne. She looked at them, considering the implications, before taking them into her hands then looked up to find Rick staring at her intently.

"We got a few other things on our plate right now," Rick said as he pulled his eyes from Michonne's to address Deanna.

Michonne gave him a sidelong glance; she felt as though he was questioning her judgment, as if she was going to forget the hundreds of walkers at the wall, and start planning the next cocktail party.

"I know," Deanna said undeterred by his response. "These are for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's gonna be an after this," she said with a smile before turning to Michonne. "You and I have a meeting to reschedule. And I know now's not the time," she clarified as she held her hand up to Rick to preempt any argument from his side, "but it's my first priority when there is. "

"OK," Michonne said softly as she gave Deanna a firm nod.

"Good," Deanna said with a smile, genuinely pleased that she seemed open to coming back on board. "I'm off to training now," she said as she lifted the hem of her shirt and patted the small gun she was now carrying.

Michonne watched her walk away then looked down at the plans in her hands before drawing her focus back to Rick who was already focused on her.

"Looks like you got your job back," he said as he nodded toward the plans.

"Looks like it."

"I'm glad it worked out for you," he said with a faint grin.

"Don't worry, I'm seeing this through with you ," she offered without prompting as she waved her hand toward the wall and the situation beyond it.

"I know," he assured her with a nod. "And they're gonna need you if this place makes it."

" _If?_ Look around us. We still have walls. You're talking like this place is a lost cause already." She shook her head in disbelief then looked upward for a moment out of frustration.

"Maybe they hold, maybe they don't," he said as he lowered his voice and leaned into her. "If it's looking like things are going south, though, we won't be around to find out."

"Rick."

"My kids and my family come first," he stated unequivocally as he placed his palm in the center of his chest. "I don't know why that's wrong. I don't. You ask any other person out there, and they'd tell you the same thing."

"You took an entire community of people into the prison, most of them less capable than the people here. You kept them safe. Sheltered them, fed them, exposed yourself to a deadly virus to save some of them...what's changed?" she asked, her question practically a whisper.

Rick looked away for a moment as her words sunk in then allowed his eyes to return to her face to find her still staring right back at him, challenging him and waiting for a response. His eyes dropped from hers and trailed downward across her lips to her chest then back up as he considered not only the words, but the woman standing here in front of him. She was right; but again, he found himself trying to cling to the rules that allowed him and his family to be alive in this community right now. The rules he imposed upon himself to allow him to keep this woman in his life and his children's lives. He heard her call to change, but in looking at her, he found himself unable to agree.

xxxx

"How is she?" Rick asked as soon as he reached the door of Jessie's upstairs guest bedroom, still panting from running wherever he'd just been and whatever he was tending to.

Denna and Michonne looked up at him simultaneously; Deanna from her spot on the daybed and Michonne from her seat at the side of the bed where she was tending to the wounds she'd sustained from falling on a table saw in the midst of the herd's invasion of their community.

"No offense to Michonne, but whatever she's doing hurts like a son of a bitch," she answered with a dry laugh.

"I just finished with the leg," Michonne said as she tied off the bandage. "And that seems to be the worst of-" She stopped herself short as she lifted the hem of Deanna's bloodied shirt to reveal the source of the stain: a set of teeth marks. She looked to Rick; her silence and the sad shock on Rick's face alerted Deanna to a problem. She looked down to her abdomen, and understood immediately what they were reluctant to tell her.

"Well... _shit_."

Rick walked silently into the room, dropping to a knee next to Michonne at Deanna's bedside, his eyes still fixed on the bitemark.

"How does it happen?" Deanna asked. Rick looked back at Michonne, wordlessly imploring her to answer for him.

"You get a high fever, weakness, and then you just fade out," Michonne explained truthfully, but gently.

"How long?"

"Depends," she said with a small shrug.

"If I could see Spencer…"

Rick looked to Michonne again then back to Deanna.

"They're all over now, there's just too many of them," he said, his voice strained from fatigue and motion. "I would if I could," he promised her. She returned his kind offer with a grin then grabbed his forearm where it rested on her bed, giving it a squeeze. As he looked at her, he was surprised at the sorrow he felt over her fate. He hadn't known her long, and he'd spent much of that time in opposition to her, but in this moment, he felt regret. Regret that she would no longer be with them, regret that he hadn't made more of their relationship, and regret for Michonne's loss. He tried to figure out what to say to her, but as he opened his mouth, the sounds of his daughter's high pitched cry began to fill the room. He looked toward the hall quickly then back to Deanna.

"I'm sorry," he said as he began to shift his weight onto his feet so that he could get up to tend to Judith.

Deanna nodded in understanding then closed her eyes for a moment. Rick reached his hand back from the bed and placed it on Michonne's knee, giving her a comforting squeeze before pushing himself to a standing position and quickly leaving the room. Even over the crying, she could hear Rick addressing his daughter in a hushed voice the next room over. _Hey Judes. It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you. Shh shh shh._ She smiled to herself as she sat there listening in, her elbows propped on her knees and her head resting in her hands. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment as she indulged in the small distraction. She was certain she'd never heard him call her Judes before, always Judith or Judy. In fact, she was the only person who used that nickname with the little girl, it was just their thing, or so she thought. The crying quickly subsided, and the only noise left was the hum of the walkers and the faint sound of music coming from behind Sam's closed door across the hall.

"Diabetes runs in my family," Deanna said breaking the silence in the room and causing Michonne to lift her head from her hands. "I always thought that's what would do me in. If I would have known how it was going to end, I would have eaten a lot more cheesecake, you know?" she asked with a wry smile, still cracking jokes despite the dire circumstances.

"Chocolate croissants for me," Michonne joked reluctantly, "but yes, I know."

A wide smile spread across Deanna's face and she began to chuckle, but her smile soon turned to a grimace at the movement of the muscles in her abdomen caused a sudden pain. She inhaled sharply then released a slow breath as she relaxed into her pillow and sighed.

"Here," Michonne said as she lifted a bottle of water to her lips, watching her take a few sips before she held her hand up to stop. It was obvious that Deanna didn't want to spend her remaining moments in mourning, she wanted to carry on as long as she could, so any distraction would be welcomed.

"You have time for that meeting now?" Michonne asked hopefully. Deanna tilted her head and paused for a moment before giving her a rueful smile.

"Michonne, I'm so sorry about the past few days. I cocked it all up-"

"It doesn't matter now..."

"You have a _such_ good head on your shoulders and your heart is always in the right place. Whatever you've come up with, I trust is the right thing. You don't need my approval anyhow...it's all yours now," she said as she reached for Michonne's hand. Michonne clasped it, then covered it with her other hand and rested it on the side of the bed between them. "You and Rick, you're what they need."

Michonne squeezed her hand and gave a nod, accepting the responsibility she was passing on to her.

"The plans you gave me... I looked them over. I get it. They could work."

"Even now? " Deanna asked with surprise.

"Even now," Michonne assured her. "The Latin in the margins, what was that?"

" _Dolor hic tibi proderit olim_ ," she recited with a chuckle. "It was something Reg used to say when things went really, really badly."

"What does it mean?" Michonne pressed.

Deanna held her gaze for a moment, likely reminiscing about Reg and perhaps even a time he had said this very thing to her, then sighed. "Someday this pain will be useful to you."

Michonne tilted her head thoughtfully and gave her a small smile. It was a beautiful thought, one of those things she'd never heard or verbalized, but that struck a chord with her instantly. She had immense pain in her life, and now there was no doubt that Deanna did, as well. Deanna wouldn't be moving on, but she would for her.

"Your expansion will happen," Michonne promised, causing Deanna grin sadly.

"It's not about me, dear...what do _you_ want?"

"I want this place to work," she answered without hesitation.

"Yes, but what does that mean for _you_? What do you want for _you_? " Deanna asked again, punctuating _you_ with a squeeze of Michonne's had each time she said it.

Michonne felt a pang in her chest, the question striking her at the core. She could easily tell you what she needed, what _they_ needed. Even her wants were just needs anymore. This community wasn't a luxury, it was a necessity. _What do you want?_ The act of wanting something for herself, of desiring something more than what she needed, was something she had allowed herself since the turn.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, the shakiness of her voice giving away how shaken she was by the question.

"It may seem otherwise right now, but I'm lucky, Michonne," Deanna said with a genuine smile. "Working with my family towards a better future is-it's all I ever wanted. That's what I got. I got to do what I wanted...right up to the end."

She removed her hand from Michonne's grasp and reached her arm, growing more and more unsteady as the virus progressed, toward Michonne, cupping her cheek in her palm. Michonne covered it in hers, steadying the woman's trembling hand.

"What do you want?" she repeated. "Now you figure it out."

"I will," Michonne vowed, her voice just a whisper.

"You better," she said as she stroked her thumb against her cheek.

 _Rick! Oh my God, they're getting in. Help!_

Michonne turned her head toward the sound coming from downstairs, dropping Deanna's hand from her cheek and holding it in her lap. She could hear yelling and things breaking, and could only imagine what was happening. She looked back at Deanna apologetically as she began to stand.

"Go."

She squeezed her hand once more then placed it gently at her side and ran out of the room to lend her help.

xxxx

Michonne sat in the chair at Carl's bedside, the same chair she'd occupied when she and Carl sat vigil at Tara's bedside just a few days earlier. So much was the same. He was unconscious, but stable, hopefully comfortable even, as they waited for his body to "heal itself" as the doctors liked to say. So much was different, though. She couldn't mistake him for sleeping because the reminder of his injury was right there on his face in the form of a bulky bandage that wrapped around his head and covered, what she was told, was now a gaping wound where his right eye used to be. She'd yet to see it, though, so part of her was still in denial. The biggest difference, however, was that this was Carl. She loved her family, but the space that this boy occupied in her heart was far deeper and wider than the others as evidenced by the constant ache she'd felt in her chest in the twelve hours since he'd been shot.

She had been sitting in the chair with her knees tucked to her chest with her head resting on them and her arms clasped around her shins. She didn't pray anymore, so she wasn't sure what to call this thing she was doing. Hoping, willing him to live, sending him good vibes...whatever it was, she was doing it intensely as she sat there in the silent room, the steady beeping of his monitors the only sound.

"It wasn't even the herd…"

Michonne lifted her head and looked to her left where Rick sat leaned back in his chair, his hands limply hanging over the armrests as he stared steadily at Carl.

"What?" she asked groggily.

"A boy tried to kill me because I killed his father," Rick said, his hoarse voice devoid of the emotion you'd expect to hear with a statement like that, probably because there was nothing left at this point. "That's why my son is lying here."

"He killed Reg. Deanna ordered it."

"But I don't even know why I got involved in the first place..."

"Because you're the constable, and Pete was abusing his wife," she said, wanting it to be the reason, though she doubted it was that simple.

"That's why I would have at one time, but I don't think that man exists anymore…" he trailed off as he ran his hand over his face. "I heard what you said about Pete and then I saw the bruises on Jessie, and I put it all together, of course I did," he said as he leaned forward in his chair, bringing his elbows to rest on his knees as he dropped his head and focused on the floor below him. "I've seen it a million times before, but I didn't care. Those aren't the problems we deal with now...they're not a threat to my family, so I had half a mind to let it run its course because people like them? They were gonna die no matter what, one way or the other."

Michonne silently listened as the thoughts and feelings he'd kept from her over the past few days came tumbling out. She felt tense as he spoke; the things he was saying were hard to hear, but it was still a relief to hear them because it was the only way they could begin to heal.

"But then Noah and Tara...I just got so…" he shook his head as he searched for the words to explain himself. "I was so _angry_ with them, with _myself_ for letting that happen...I just snapped and he was the easy target, and you know the rest…" he said as he waved his hand in front of him.

He sat quietly for a moment before finally turning his head to face Michonne. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, his breaths jagged, and the muscles of his jaw tensed as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

"I'm supposed to be protecting these people, and I don't even know how to do that," he said shaking his head. "I don't even know if I care anymore," he added quietly.

Michonne felt her own eyes begin to sting with tears as she looked at him. She'd heard this sentiment from him before, but today he wasn't saying with defiance. He was saying it with defeat.

"Bullshit," she whispered harshly, her lip trembling. " _You_ saved _me_ , and I've seen you save others a thousand times over. You know how," she assured him as she leaned forward in her chair to close the space between them. "And yes, things have changed, but we'll figure it out like we always do. We have a home, a family, a community to protect. You and Me."

She held his gaze and raised her eyebrows slightly, hoping to elicit some sort of positive response from him, but all she saw was fear in his face. He licked his lips, then opened his mouth to speak and released a shaky breath before he could.

"I don't trust myself right now…" he admitted just above a whisper.

The tension fell from his face fell, allowing some of the tears he was holding back to fall, as well. Michonne felt the ache in her chest intensify as her chosen long-time leader, fellow warrior, and best friend unraveled in front of her. She reached out to him and placed her hand on his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the tear sliding down his cheek.

"Then you take whatever time you need to get your head straight. I'm here, we're all here for you...but you will come back. You have to."

He stared back at her for a moment before relaxing into her touch and beginning to nod weakly as he brought his hand up to cover hers letting it rest there for a moment before nodding again, this time more resolutely.

 _Too many shadows in my room_

 _Too many hours in this midnight_

 _Too many corners in my mind_

 _So much to do to set my heart right_

 _Oh it's taking so long I could be wrong, I could be ready_

 _Oh but if I take my heart's advice_

 _I should assume it's still unsteady_

 _I am in repair, I am in repair_

 _In Repair-John Mayer_

 **A/N: I left the lyrics to an old song I rediscovered while looking for inspiration for the story, and I've been listening to it quite a bit as I've started working on the final chapters. I think it really sets the tone for what's to come, and I wanted to share.**

 **Thanks so much for reading and special thanks to mamgrimes, ShunnieIsFine, sleepywitchsamurai, courtgirl26, and literaturechick for taking the time to share your thoughts. I love hearing from you and appreciate the support. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Just a quick warning for those trying to stay completely spoiler free-the remaining chapters take place after the season 6 mid-season finale. Some of the material draws inspiration from the comics, promos, and filming reports.**

"What are you up to?"

Michonne stood in the doorway of the dimly lit upstairs bedroom, waiting for a response from its lone inhabitant before entering.

"Reading," he said curtly without looking up from his spot in his unmade twin bed.

She slowly proceeded into the room not only to avoid tripping over something she wasn't able to see, but also because her presence didn't feel welcome at all.

"Reading what?" she asked once she made it to the bedside. She heard him sigh before he lowered the book into his lap and looked up at her.

" _Lord of the Flies_."

 _Of all the books…_ she thought to herself. It certainly wasn't a light read or escapism for him. It was closer to his life than not, then again, perhaps that's why he was reading it. Perhaps it was comforting to see your world on those pages instead of a life you'd never know.

"You haven't finished it yet? Seems like you've been reading this one for a while."

"Nope."

"Maybe a little light would help," she suggested as she began walking toward the window in front of his bed. It was 10:00 AM on a sunny early autumn day, but you'd never know it by being in this room.

"Maybe having two eyes would, too," he said sarcastically to her back. She froze in place for moment, her hand still gripping the curtain as she turned to find him awaiting her response.

"It probably would," she said honestly. He stared back at her, looking almost disappointed that she'd agreed with him, like he was looking forward to sparring with her a bit if she tried to placate him as expected.

He dropped his head and returned his one good eye to his book, leaving Michonne to watch him for a moment before she turned and swept the curtain open, allowing the full sun to stream in. He recoiled his head and brought his hand up to shield his left eye, grimacing as he did.

"Come on, get up," she said evenly as she approached the foot of his bed. "I've got a job for you."

"Dr. Cloyd said I'm not cleared to work yet," he protested.

"She also said you should start easing yourself into everyday activities," Michonne said with a rueful, but satisfied grin. "Shower and get dressed. I'll make something to eat while you do."

"Michonne," he groaned as he dropped his book against his outstretched thighs.

"Carl…" she said matching his tone. "Are you really gonna make me do this?" She wasn't used to having a difficult time with him, so this was as unpleasant for her as it was for him.

"I'll do it later," he offered.

"You'll do it now." She hated having to pull this card with him, but he'd left her her with no choice. "You heard your dad, I'm responsible for you while he's gone, and I don't want him coming back to his son still laying in bed. Seriously, you're gonna grow roots if you stay any longer."

He wasn't happy about it at all, rolling his one good eye at her teasing, but he set his book on the nightstand and scooted out of bed then wordlessly walked in the ensuite bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Michonne sighed and shook her head as she stared at the closed door, waiting to hear the shower start before she went downstairs to fix a very late breakfast for him and a mid-morning snack for herself and Judith who had been up for hours at this point.

Within thirty minutes, he was showered, fed, dressed in clean clothes, and shuffling painfully slowly down the middle of the street with his sister's tiny left hand in his and her right in Michonne's.

"She walks like she's drunk."

"And how would you know?" she deadpanned as she glanced at him. He seemed to find fault with everyone and everything today, even his toddling little sister.

"Because I've seen adults get drunk at parties…" he defended.

"Well, I haven't been spiking her bottle if that's what you're implying…"

Michonne looked down at Judith and couldn't help but smile at the sight. Her hands were firmly grasped in theirs as she swung her little feet in wide steps while everything in between wavered like a bowl of Jello. "You're kinda right, though." Michonne felt bad for beginning to laugh, but she couldn't unsee similarity now that he'd said it. "Poor Judes...See? This is why we have to help her out."

"How long does it take?"

"It varies. She's right around that age, so it could be a few days, a few weeks, a few months…"

"How old was Andre when he started walking?"

She paused for a moment, surprised that he cared enough to ask, although she couldn't be certain he wasn't just interested in trying to gauge how long he'd be saddled with the job of helping his little sister learn to walk. Still, she stifled a hopeful smile at his slight change of tune then sighed softly as she thought back to that time in her life.

"Well...it was a few weeks before his first birthday, that's when he really started getting the hang of it," she huffed out a quiet laugh as her smile began to break through. "We would spend hours, the whole afternoon, just sitting on the floor with him, letting him practice getting his feet under him, and nothing. Then one day I was...I don't even know what I was doing, making coffee, I think? And I look down and he's just standing there in front of me. I'd take a step back and he'd follow, so I called for Mike to come see it, but before he got there, boom, Andre was on his bottom. These things never go according to plan…"

He nodded quietly, probably getting more of an answer than he was looking for, as they continued their slow stroll around the community and eventually found themselves standing in front of a small clearing of land that bordered the first few steel panels of the new expansion. He took a minute to appreciate the new area now within the walls.

"You haven't seen this yet, have you?"

"No, but I've heard you guys talking about it." He he'd been out of the house only when absolutely necessary in the few weeks since his injury, mainly just walking across the street to the infirmary for his follow up visits then back home immediately afterwards.

"I'll show you around then."

"OK," he agreed as they stepped up onto the curb, lifting Judith by the arms to help her clear it.

It was just tilled land with two long sections framed out with two by four's, each containing small mounds and the occasional seedling sprouting up from seeds they'd planted last week. Michonne picked Judith up in her arms, knowing that the soft dirt would likely be too challenging to walk on, but also to free Carl up to explore if he so desired.

"So we've got greens, peas, cucumbers, and tomatoes, of course," she added pointing the bare wire trellis that she hoped would soon be covered in green and red. "Then carrots, radishes, beets, and some herbs in that row. I think your dad said we planted mint, basil, and dill."

Carl didn't answer, he just stalked around the garden beds, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the dirt occasionally, and kneeling down at one point, taking a handful of it in his palm then releasing slowly as he watched the steady stream of grains return to the ground.

"The soil is dry," he said aloud as he stood up and walked toward her.

She looked down at the ground and squinted her eyes as she examined it, unable to see what he did as it looked fine to her.

"Is it? I don't have a clue when it comes to this stuff."

"Yeah, cause you were never around to learn," he proffered causing Michonne to exhale a short laugh in return.

"Hey, someone had to feed your sugar addiction and comic habit," she teased, garnering a the quickest flash of a grin from him before he returned to his stone face.

"So what do I need to do?"

"Ask Maggie. Hershel's the one who taught my dad all of this stuff, and I only know what he taught me, so…"

"Yeah, but you're here and she's not."

"I thought my job was helping Judith," he claimed trying to avoid the responsibility.

He was right, she'd only intended for him to work with Judith to get him out of the house, but they happened upon something that could be even better for him. She hoped that putting the knowledge he'd acquired at the prison to use with this project would help get him back on his feet and slowly, but surely build his confidence.

"I guess you have two jobs now which still isn't so bad considering I have like seven and your dad has at least that many, if not more." She finished by raising her eyebrows, daring him to call it unfair.

"Seedlings need to be watered everyday until they've grown," he explained with a heavy sigh, "then you space it out to every couple of days."

"Good to know. What other pearls of wisdom do you have for me?" she asked with a smile.

"Hey Carl!"

He instinctively turned at the sound of his name, then turned back just as quickly at the sight of Enid tentatively approaching them. He tensed up and kept his eyes forward, dropping his chin to his chest as is if trying to hide in plain sight.

"Hey," he said in monotone.

"Hi Michonne. Hey Judith," she said as pleasantly as possible which was still rather dry.

"Hi," Michonne said with a smile as she looked from Enid to Carl.

"I haven't seen you around in a while, so I just wanted to say hi. It's good to see you out," she said as she came around to his side, forcing him to finally acknowledge her presence, even if it was only with a shrug.

Michonne looked back and forth between the two in their awkward silence before deciding to give him an out if he wanted. She'd given him a healthy dose of tough love today, but she appreciated that this was a lot to take in, and it was OK if he wasn't there yet.

"You know, I've got to get on this watering situation. You wanna help?"

"Is it OK if I don't?" he asked in return.

"Of course," Michonne allowed as she tried to keep a neutral expression since he'd probably be embarrassed by the full out smile she wanted to give him. "You mind taking your sister for me, though?"

"Sure," he said as he reached for her and rested her against his hip for the first time in a while. Part of her wanted to stay and enjoy this moment, but she thought it best not to ruin a good thing, and bid them goodbye before heading off.

xxxx

"It's really coming along."

Dev looked up, a bit startled by the voice breaking him out of his focused state, to see Michonne walking toward him.

"Hey…" he greeted as he placed his paint brush in the tray that sat next to him on the ground. He pushed himself up from his kneeling position then took a few steps towards her. "Yeah, I think it will be done with just a few more days of work."

"Well, it looks great…and it's all the more impressive that you've done it by yourself."

"I didn't think I was capable," he said modestly as he nervously began peeling the dried paint off of his hands, "but with everything that happened...everyone we lost, I knew I needed to try."

She smiled at his reasons as they held each other's gazes for a moment. It was the first time they'd spoken to each other one-on-one in a few weeks; they hadn't been intentionally avoiding each other, but after their last experience together, something had changed between them.

"What's more impressive is everything you've done around here," he said, breaking the silence as he gestured toward the center of town with his hand.

She looked in that direction, as well, and saw the undeniable progress like repaired walls, clean streets, and the burgeoning garden; but it wasn't enough.

"We have a long way to go still, but everyone's stepped up to take care of each other and this place."

"And you can feel that. The change in attitude, people coming together…" All things he told her she wouldn't be able to achieve the last time they spoke. He fell quiet and bowed his head for a moment before looking back at her. "I owe you an apology."

"You don't."

"Michonne, those things I said the pet shop...you didn't deserve that."

"I said some things, too, so we're even," she said quietly.

"I didn't leave you with much choice, though," he said, still contrite and needing to explain himself. "I've never felt more helpless in my life than I did that day, just watching my friends fall one by one. And after hearing what Rick said, I was convinced that that would be our reality. That at the end of the day, it would fall on me to protect them, and I knew I wasn't capable. So I got angry and I put it all on you…"

"You didn't know, but now you do," she said gently. She didn't feel owed an apology for that simple fact. He was only acting according to what he knew, and they exchanged words in the heat of the moment, but that's all they were at this point.

"I do."

As he looked at her standing in front of him, he thought back to the first time they met. This beautiful, intelligent, worldly woman came into his community out of nowhere, and it almost felt as if fate had brought her there for him. That after months of being alone, he met the person that would give new meaning to his life, and that hope grew each time he met her. But out there in the woods, he discovered that he only knew one side of her, a tiny little sliver of the complex woman she was, and while she could probably give him everything he needed and wanted, he was fooling himself if he thought he could do the same for her. What he experienced with her that day, though, gave him some of the purpose he was looking for in his life, and he hoped to repay that in some small way.

"You know it wouldn't be right if you didn't leave your mark here in some way," he said as he tilted his head toward the nearly completed mural behind him.

"And ruin this masterpiece? I can't do that to you," she said sweetly.

"Come on," he walked closer to the wall and motioned for her to follow. "Look. Right here, it's just a patch of green."

She looked at the spot he was pointing to, and it seemed as simple as he said it would be. Just some broad brush strokes of green to create grass that she was nearly certain she couldn't mess up, but still she resisted.

"I have things to do," she said apologetically.

"Five minutes. Just to say you did." He stood there with his hands out at his sides, smiling brightly at her as he tried his best to wear her down. Eventually it worked, and she sighed then shook her head in defeat.

"Fine…" She walked over to the wall with him, and kneeled down on the tarp then picked up a paint brush. "Right here?" she asked pointing to the bare bottom corner.

"Right there."

He picked up a brush, as well, and went to work painting alongside her. She watched him for a moment, studying his technique, before finally putting her brush to the wall. She started hesitantly at first then fell into the steady rhythm, working in tandem in a comfortable silence.

"If only growing crops was this easy…" she mumbled, thinking how now it would be if the vegetables in their garden grew as quickly as the grass she was creating here. She'd love nothing more that to have a steady food source for her community.

"Patience, my friend."

"What's your read on gardening supplies and farming equipment out there, by the way? Is there much left beyond what we already have?"

"Well, there's more of it left than canned goods at this point," he surmised, carrying on the conversation while both continued painting. "There's a Lowe's about 30 miles west of here that we'd hit for supplies as needed. We never took much from the gardening section, so I imagine it's still fairly well stocked unless someone else got to it."

"It's just hard to believe there's anything left after two years..."

"Speaking of, I know they don't know me well, but I would have been more than happy to go on that run with Rick and Daryl. Since there's not much left out there, and they don't know the area like I do, I think it may help."

"Don't take it personally," she said smiling to himself. "They're…" she hesitated for a moment as she tried to figure out a way to explain their dynamic, "they're just best left to their own devices every once in awhile."

"Well, the offer stands. I imagine it would carry more weight coming from you," he said pausing to glance over at her for a minute.

"I'll let them know. Thanks."

They fell back into their rhythm, and as she saw the bare metal space grow smaller and smaller, she was actually a little disappointed that she was going to be done just as she was starting to enjoy herself.

"How's Carl doing?"

Of course everyone within the walls knew about his injury, but outside of their core group, no one had felt comfortable asking about him, but that was fine with her because until today, she probably wouldn't have felt comfortable answering.

"He's OK. A little bit better everyday," she said smiling to herself.

"Good."

 _Open the gates!_

They turned their heads at the call to see Abe motioning to the woman on gate duty from his watch point. Michonne watched as the gates opened to reveal the battered yellow jeep waiting to enter. It was a just quick overnight run, but no matter the reason for going beyond the walls, she would always feel a sense of relief when they returned.

Rick drove the jeep in, and parked a few houses down from the pantry which she found odd. She watched as he and Daryl exited the car then walked around to the back. She would go over greet them as soon as she finished up her section in a few minutes, but she continued to keep her eyes on them, anxious to see how much food they were able to scavenge. Daryl swung the back door open then dropped back into position with his crossbow as Rick reached in.

"What the hell?" she whispered under her breath. When Rick's upper body emerged from the trunk, he dragged out a bearded man with long hair whose hands were tied behind his back. She immediately dropped her paintbrush in the tray and stood. "Sorry," she called back as she broke into a run toward the jeep.

Rick looked up to see her running toward them, and nodded her way.

"Michonne! You have the key to the cell?" he yelled.

She produced them from her pocket and held them up in response while she took her final strides toward them. Once she reached the men, the prisoner, who was calmly looking around at his new surroundings, glanced over at her and smiled.

"Hello there."

She didn't answer, and instead looked questioningly between Daryl and Rick hoping to get some answers about their extremely relaxed and congenial prisoner as soon as possible. Rick slowly drew his chin down since his hands were occupied, relaying with his eyes that he'd explain this later. She nodded then walked ahead to lead them to the basement apartment that served as their holding cell.

xxxx

Rick walked out of the laundry room and straight into the kitchen as he finished pulling a clean, grey t-shirt over his head. He opened the pantry door, and stood there eyeing the items from their recent haul as he absently ran his hand through his hair, still slightly damp from his recent shower. He found what he was looking for, and grabbed a spoon from the drawer just to his right before heading into the living room to join Michonne on the couch. She was also freshly showered and dressed for bed in a pair of men's flannel pajama bottoms, a white tank, and a grey zip up hoodie. She had her feet resting on the coffee table while she wrote in a notebook that was resting on her lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he eyed the notebook.

She finished writing the sentence she was working on then cast her eyes to the side, seeing that he held a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. She then looked up to meet his eyes and shook her head before returning her attention to her work.

"Don't," he warned.

"I didn't," she said innocently, her eyes still trained on her notebook.

"I didn't get lunch or dinner today," he explained as he unscrewed the lid and set it on the cushion next to him, then took a spoonful from the jar and inserted it into his mouth. He watched her scribble in her notebook, paying him no mind at all.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, this time in a whisper as he leaned in closer, trying to get a look at what she was writing. She looked up at him, and started to laugh at his strange mood. They joked with each other often enough, but this felt different. She placed her pen down on the notebook then leaned forward to grab her mug of cooling tea from the coffee table before answering.

"I'm making a list of assignments for people to complete while we're away...I'm going, I need to see this place for myself," she added, claiming her spot in the group that would be headed to this alleged Hilltop community the next morning.

"I know," he assured her with a nod. "You should be there. Carol and Morgan are more than capable of holding this place down and looking after Carl and Judes. She's done it time and time again," he said likely more for his benefit than hers.

"She definitely has…" Michonne agreed. Despite their recent differences, there was no questioning Carol's motives after putting herself on the line to protect their family and the community from the Wolves. "Did you get anything else out of him?" she asked about their detainee.

"Same story," he said shaking his head. "Claims he came on his own and that his group won't attack. Says they're just interested in trade...how do we know he's not with this Negan guy, though?" The timing of this guy's arrival on the heels of Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha's encounter with this other group seemed suspect to him. "He's too calm, Michonne. I've seen it a million times before-guilty men sleep in their cells at night while the innocent ones climb the walls."

"I checked in with Sasha up in the tower before I came home. She hasn't seen any abnormal activity out there," Michonne offered.

"They could be avoiding her line of sight."

"They could be," she allowed. "Or he's telling the truth...and if he is, I'd hate for us to do anything that could ruin a potentially good thing."

"You mean me," he clarified with a small smirk.

"You do have a man named Jesus tied up next door…" she pointed out lightly.

"His name is _Paul_ and I've got a few bruised ribs from our first encounter. _Jesus_ wouldn't do that," he argued.

"I'm just sayin'..." She gave him a small shrug and smiled before returning her mug to the coffee table and picking up her pen again.

"I never would have figured you as the list making type," he mused aloud causing her to drop her pen and look up at him again. She was getting so much work done until he had decided to join her.

" _List making type?_ You mean being organized and having my shit together?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. He grinned back at her, figuring any answer would dig him deeper into a hole with her.

"Can I see? Maybe I'll have something to add."

She couldn't argue with that request, so she passed it over to him, and watched as he brought it in front of him, squinting before he held it out a little further to make out her writing better. He moved his lips slightly as he read, nodding, she assumed, at each bullet point as he made his way down the list.

" _Eugene ammo?_ " he read aloud as he lowered the notebook and looked over at her.

"He thinks he knows of a way to start producing it," she said trying to contain her excitement.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she answered, seeing his incredulity. "As unlikely as it seems, he's an incredible asset. The amount of random knowledge in that brain of his?" She shook her head in awe. "He's my new best friend," she admitted causing Rick chuckle at the image of the odd duo.

"You got a lot of those these days," he teased. "I remember a time that wouldn't have been the case…"

"People change, right?"

"Yep," he said with a sigh as he handed his notebook back to her. "At least I can say I knew you when…"

She tilted her head nodded, feigning sympathy, before playfully hitting his knee with her notebook.

"I'm right here, fool," she said as she got up from the couch, letting out a loud yawn before picking up her empty mug. She yawned again, and decided to listen to the message her body was sending her. "I'm done," she announced as she blinked her tired, watery eyes.

"Here," he said holding out his hand to take her mug so that she didn't have to make a trip to the kitchen. She grinned at the gesture, and handed it to him.

"Thanks. Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

"You too. G'night," he said returning her sleepy grin.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Same warning as last chapter-this update includes speculation on the events of 6B. I've drawn inspiration from the graphic novel, filming spoilers, interviews, promos, and whatever else I could get my grubby little hands on.**

 **.** _ **..people she loves, and people who love her...**_

"Do you think they have chickens?"

Rick diverted his attention away from the window which framed the endless blur of trees that scrolled by as their RV sped down the desolate stretch of highway. He looked across the booth first at Maggie then at Michonne who sat beside her waiting for one of them to engage in her hopeful speculation.

"You could ask him," he said with a wry grin as he nodded his head back toward the locked bedroom that housed their prisoner.

"It can wait," she said coolly. "I was just thinking that if they did, it would be nice if we could get one..."

"One's not gonna do you much good unless you're just lookin' for a pet…" he pointed out, once again with that teasing tone and grin.

She paused for a moment and tilted her head to question his response. He seemed to be in good spirits, but she couldn't get a straight answer out of him to save her life this morning.

"A few," she corrected. "I was trying not to be greedy."

She twisted in her seat to angle her body towards Maggie, who was more likely to answer her question seriously, and likely knew far more about these things than he did anyway given that she was the daughter of a veterinarian and raised on a farm.

"How many eggs do they lay at a time?"

"Depends on the breed," she answered easily. "But on average, I'd say about one every day or so from spring to late autumn."

Rick watched from across the table as she scribbled this information on a fresh page in her ever-present notebook. Her keen sense of organization was just one of the many little things he had begun to notice about her lately. From the way she'd taken to wearing her hair back to the nickname she used for his daughter to her nightly routine of having a cup of tea and unwinding downstairs after the kids went to bed; he had started to find himself fascinated with these mundane little details about her. He wasn't sure if they were new or if he was just seeing her through clearer eyes these days, or possibly a little bit of both, but he couldn't get enough as far as she was concerned lately. He found himself seeking her out more often, setting himself up for a chance to see her beautiful smile or hear the rare girlish giggle that belied her tough exterior.

"So April, May, June, July, August, September, October, _maybe_ November," she whispered aloud to herself as she ticked off fingers for each month. "8 times 30 is 240, divided by 2 is 120, and we have 42 people right now..." she rattled off shaking her head with disappointment at the unfavorable ratios. "Yeah, we need more chickens."

Maggie and Rick shared a knowing look across the table; armed with information that was about to make her calculations a bit more difficult.

"Say Maggie, don't they lay fewer eggs as they get older?" Rick asked, playing dumb.

"Yep. The number of days between eggs stretches out every year. I've heard there's a twenty percent decrease year to year, but I'm not sure if that's true or not," Maggie confirmed.

"Hmm," Rick leaned back in the booth then ran his hand over his beard as feigned taking in this knowledge for the first time before looking up at Michonne. "What's the math on that, Michonne?" he asked with a smirk.

"Aren't you two so funny?" Michonne said as their little joke at her expense sunk in. She began to smile, but tried to stifle it. "Messing with the city girl…"

"I'm so sorry," Maggie said apologetically through her laughing. She wrapped her hands around Michonne's upper arm and rested her head against her shoulder briefly in place of a real hug. "He set me up."

"Yeah…" Michonne said as she stared across the table at Rick who was trying his best to play innocent.

Maggie noted the stare down occurring between them, and used that as her cue to leave.

"I'm gonna check in on Glenn, Abe, and Daryl upfront. See if they need any help navigatin'…"

Maggie slid out of the booth and took the few steps to the front of the RV where she took a seat on the floorboard between Glenn and Abe, leaving Rick and Michonne on their own.

"I know what you're thinking…" Michonne said as she watched him watching her across the table.

"I don't think you do," he said smugly. He happened to be thinking, at that very moment that it seemed impossible that one person could be so smart, so lethal, and yet so cute.

"Look, if I could Google this stuff, and save myself the grief, I would," she returned dryly. "But I don't have that option."

He dropped the playfulness, and reached across for her notebook. He slid it towards the center of the table then grabbed the top of the pen, and gently pulled it out of her hand. He started to sketch a square on the paper, filling in the blank space with lines as he began to speak.

"We'll ask for two: a hen and a rooster so that they can reproduce, and we can get the numbers we need for a steady supply of eggs and maybe even meat one day," he explained as he continued to draw what was starting to look like plans for a coop. "Now roosters are noisy, so I've got my worries that between the smells and the sound, they may be ringing the dinner bell for walkers, but if that turns out to be a problem, we can handle that easily enough," he said with a grin as he looked up at her, her face already close to his as they both leaned in looking over the notebook between them.

"Chicken dinner," she returned with a grin of her own.

"Exactly. The pigs never caused a problem at the prison, so maybe we'll get lucky. Either way, you'd probably wanna put them in the center to buffer the noise. I know that's not the most attractive thing to have in the middle of town, but we can build an enclosure like this," he said pointing down at the page before looking up to find himself being rewarded with a beautiful smile.

"You knew all of this?" she asked, the smile permeating her voice.

"I didn't grow up on a farm, but my grandpa had one. I picked up a thing or two," he said modestly.

"So you were just holding out on me…"

"Nah...I was just havin' some fun," he assured her. "I wouldn't have left you hanging."

"Well, I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

He slid her notebook back to her, and tilted his hand to offer her pen back. She reached for it, giving him one last appreciative grin, before lowering her eyes to take a closer look at the drawing. He smiled to himself as he watched her, feeling content because she was.

xxx

"This place is run pretty much like a hotel," Jesus informed the group as they stood in the grand lobby area of the large brick building that was the centerpiece of Hilltop. "Most of the rooms were converted into living quarters. Some people prefer to have their own space like out in the trailers, but others like being together in one place. Feels safer. We've got a couple of vacant rooms here, so this is most likely where you'll be staying tonight," he said as he pointed up toward the doors lining the exposed landing of each story of the building. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Abe, Rick, and Michonne followed behind him, Michonne trailing behind the group as she took in the surroundings. It reminded her of a grand hotel from another era, all trimmed out in dark woods. Brass fixtures and flocked jewel tone fabrics added to the opulent feel of interior. It was showing some wear, and it was far too classic and formal for her style, but she couldn't deny that they had tried to make something of this place. She drew her eyes away from the high ceilings, and looked forward to find that the group had gotten ahead of her. Rick noticed her absence, as well, looking back at that same moment to seek her out. She caught up with them at the bottom of the grand stairwell as they began to make their way up the the second floor. They passed a series of doors as Jesus walked them toward the clinic facilities.

"Jesus, wait!"

The grouped turned to see an older, grey haired gentleman who had popped out from behind one of those doors. He had a goatee and was wearing a white dress shirt tucked into grey slacks and secured with a pair of suspenders.

"You can continue showing them around, but I'd like to speak to whomever is in charge of this group-have a little meeting of the minds," he said with a wink.

Compared to Jesus's friendly, easy-going manner, his fellow community member seemed awkward, even with his attempt at levity. Jesus took a few steps back toward the man in the hall, giving him an apologetic nod before introducing him to the group.

"Sorry guys, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running around here, makes sure everything is on the up and up," he explained.

"I'm the boss," the man clarified for the group's sake.

Jesus paused for a beat, as if he wanted to let that awkward assertion clear the air before continuing.

"Rick is the guy you're gonna wanna talk to," he said to Gregory as he motioned toward him.

"Michonne, too."

She looked up at Rick, surprised to hear him invoke her name.

"Of course, I'm sorry," Jesus said to Michonne before he turned to Gregory to make eye contact for the first time since he'd appeared. "They're good people," he said with a steady gaze and low voice. Gregory nodded before returning his attention to the group in front of him.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all," he said grandly with an odd flourish of his hand. Any sincerity was undermined, though, by him turning his focus to the two named leaders before he even finished. "Rick, Michelle. Please join me," he said as pointed down the hall toward the open door of what looked to be his office.

"It's Michonne actually," she corrected flatly as she walked behind him. She'd only just met him, but he was already rubbing her the wrong way.

"Of course. Sorry about that," he said over his shoulder as he led the two of them down the walkway of the second story landing that was open to the lobby area below. "Not sure what kind of place you have, but a place this nice, it takes a lot of work to keep up with. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

Rick and Michonne looked at each other quietly from their place behind him and out of his view. She gave a slight roll of her eyes, and nudged his arm with her elbow.

"We can appreciate that," he said noncommittally.

It must have sounded like a compliment to Gregory, however, because he turned and gave them a huge smile while he ushered them into his office, pointing them toward the upholstered Queen Anne style settee that sat in front of his fireplace. He dropped into the leather wingback chair across from them and leaned back, folding his hands across his protruding pot belly while he studied them for a moment. Michonne crossed her legs and leaned against the back of her seat as she folded her hands in her lap and appraised him, as well. Rick could see her matching his posture, and he smiled inwardly at this man's unfortunate mistake of thinking he was dealing with anyone less than equals.

"Tell me about yourselves, what did you do before this?" he finally asked.

"I was a sheriff," Rick volunteered first.

"Lawyer."

"Isn't that perfect? Assuming you were on the same side," he said as he started to laugh at his own joke. His laugh was phlegmy, one of those that turned into a cough if it lasted more than a few seconds.

"What did you do?" Michonne asked instead of responding to his joke.

"Business man," he said as he picked up the pitcher of water setting on the coffee table between them and poured himself a glass.

The vague response sounded like the career aspiration of a school age child, not the way a grown man spoke of his career. If she had to guess, the only business he dealt in was used car sales or pyramid schemes judging by his slick, impatient manner. He chugged the glass of water and set it back down on the table before continuing.

"I trust Jesus talked to you about setting up trade between our communities, and you must be amenable, otherwise, you wouldn't have come all this way."

"I think there's a more pressing matter we need to discuss," Rick said.

"Oh?"

"We know about this Negan guy and the Saviors or whatever it is they're called."

"I see." He warily eyed the two people sitting across from him, not expecting to have this conversation yet.

"Some of our people encountered a group of them on the road a couple weeks ago," Michonne added. "We were concerned that Jesus was connected to them, but in talking to him, we discovered that we may have a common threat."

"May have a threat? I'm confused. Have they not found your community yet?" Gregory asked as he leaned forward in his chair slightly.

"No, not this group," Michonne answered.

"And the Saviors your people ran into on the road...how did that end?"

"We took care of them," Rick said simply.

Gregory looked at the two of them, trying to figure out whether they were just bluffing or potentially that terrifyingly strong because in his experience, Negan and his men were not something that were easily taken care of.

"I see. Well, they know you exist now, so they'll be knocking at your door any day now." He seemed to relish having this upper hand and decided to use it to its fullest benefit. "In all honesty, the trade Jesus is seeking out isn't just for our benefit as you can clearly see that we do just fine on our own," he said as he gestured to his surroundings. "We keep Negan and his men out of our affairs by supplying them with food and other resources in exchange for taking out the dead in the area."

"That doesn't sound like he's out of your affairs at all," Michonne pointed out. "How much are you supplying him with?"

"Enough to keep him happy," Gregory answered evasively.

"Do you ever go out there? Beyond the walls?" Rick asked.

Gregory let out a guffaw, the length and volume of which seemed a bit too much for Rick's straight forward question.

"Now why would I do that when I have all of this?" Michonne and Rick stared back at him awaiting his answer. "No," he said more seriously. "Not anymore. There's no point."

"So you don't even know if the threat of walkers is serious enough to continue with this arrangement?" Michonne asked.

Gregory took a sip of his water and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, there's no way out of this, and the deal we have with them right now is working. If you want to learn that the hard way, you're welcome to."

There was a knock at the door, and a middle age blonde woman poked her head in before Gregory could answer.

"In a meeting," he bellowed impatiently.

"I know, I'm sorry," she said in a rushed apology. "But we need you for a moment...Ethan's back," she added cryptically as she glanced at the unknown visitors.

"Right," he sighed before standing up from his chair. "I have something I need to deal with. Landlord issues," he said in jest. "Find your group and finish taking a look around. Jesus can show you where everything is. Take some time to consider our offer for trade. We can meet again in the morning."

He joined his assistant at the door. Michonne could hear their whispered conversation start once they left the room and fade as they walked down the hall. She looked over at Rick who was staring straight ahead, his brow creased in thought as he absently rubbed the pads of his fingers together.

"Well that went well," she said as she leaned back into the chair.

"He doesn't have a clue about what goes on out there…"

"Jesus will."

"Agree. Let's go find them."

xxx

Since the individual living quarters didn't contain working kitchens, all meals at the Hilltop were served cafeteria style in a communal dining hall. Jesus led the group through the line where they piled their plates high with fresh vegetables, grains, and the protein of the day which was venison thanks to a lucky hunting trip by a few of the community members.

He set them up at a table at the edge of the dining hall and gifted them with a bottle of grain alcohol he and his friend had distilled over the winter. He chatted with them for a few minutes, making sure they were comfortable, before allowing them some private time to relax and discuss their day.

"None for me, thanks."

Michonne returned the glass decanter of clear liquid to an upright position and pulled it away from Maggie's glass, but still held it in her hand in case she changed her mind.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. As good as I feel about this place, I think at least one of us should be completely clear, you know?"

Michonne set the decanter on the table with a slight frown, and eyed the glass in front of her.

"Now you're making me feel bad," she said as reason and responsibility overtook the small part of her that had allowed herself one celebratory pour.

"No! That's not what I was trying to do," Maggie insisted as she reached across the table and pushed the glass toward her. "You, of all people, deserve that drink. For everything you've done back home over the past few weeks, we should be toasting you."

"Stop," Michonne said sincerely as she held up her hand. "It's been a team effort."

The men flanking them patiently watched their exchange as they held their drinks in hand, ready to toast, and more importantly imbibe, until one of them finally broke down.

"This is the part where you say thank you, 'Chonne," Daryl piped up from across the table. "Also if the woman says drink, you drink. That's just good manners so far as I see it."

Michonne chuckled at his interesting take on manners then lifted her glass eliciting him to mumble ' _bout damn time_ under his breath.

"Thank you..." she said as she tilted her glass toward Maggie. She wasn't one for long-winded speeches like Abe or freely sharing her emotions like Maggie, but when she looked at the people that surrounded her and considered the hell that they had just been through, she felt compelled to speak. "I just want to say that I don't take moments like this for granted anymore. I'm happy that you made it back to us," she said looking directly to her left at Abe then across the table at Daryl and Glenn, "and I'm incredibly grateful that you're all lending your skills and strength to rebuild our home. You're my family, and there's no one else I'd rather do this with," she finished quietly with a soft smile.

Upon hearing her say those words, the room went silent for Rick. All of the chatter and clinking of dishes and glasses faded away as he looked at her. For as many times as he'd referred to these people as family, he couldn't recall a time he'd ever heard her say those words. He knew that she felt it by her dedication and actions, but there was something about hearing her finally say it that made his heart swell.

He reached his left hand around her back, and placed it between her shoulder blades, rubbing in gentle circles. She glanced up at him, and gave him a shy smile upon feeling his comforting gesture.

"You're gonna make me cry, Michonne," Maggie laughed as she raised her glass of water in one hand and cleared the tears welling in the corner of her eye with the other. "Damn it."

"Back 'atcha, darlin'," Abe said as he raised his glass, as well.

"To family," Glenn announced.

"To family," Rick repeated, his voice rising above the others as they brought their glasses together in the middle then to their respective lips, the fiery liquid eliciting instant reactions.

"Ungh, that burns good," Daryl said with as close to a smile as he came these days.

"Yes, indeed," Abe agreed as he clinked glasses with Daryl across from him and went in for another sip.

"Woo," Michonne mouthed quietly as she exhaled a long breath as if the air would cool the burn in her chest. She looked to her right to find Rick looking down at her with a grin. "And I'm done," she said to him as she set her glass down on the table.

"Yeah," he laughed in agreement. He appreciated a stiff drink every now and then, but this was on another level.

The group finished their food and drinks, staying at the table long past the time the other community members had left and gone about their evening activities. It was a rare circumstance to find themselves in, a safe place with no responsibilities at all. There was no work to be done, and these were not their walls to protect. They were free and relaxed, and their lazy evening reflected that. Eventually, though, the group began to split. Abe and Daryl took the empty decanter and went off in search of a refill and smokes, and Maggie and Glenn headed off to bed to turn in for the night.

Michonne watched them leave then turned her body to face the man that had been sitting at her side all night. She wasn't drunk from the one sip of alcohol she'd had a couple hours earlier, but her face felt warm and her head was buzzing as if she was. The smile still hadn't left her face from the last laugh they'd shared before the group scattered and went their separate ways.

"What's that look for?" he asked in a low drawl as he leaned in close to her even though they were the only ones left in the room.

"Nothing. I'm just good."

Her response brought the smile back at his face, and he nodded in satisfaction as he straightened up in his seat.

"You up for a walk? I wouldn't mind taking another look around for ourselves."

"Sure."

He pushed his chair out from the table then stood fast enough to catch the back of hers and pull it out the rest of the way. She paused for a moment, unsure of what he was doing, then thanked him for the chivalrous gesture and paused to wait for him as he pushed the chair back in.

They walked out of the dining hall side by side, and set off to tour the grounds. It was dark now, but scattered lanterns lit the narrow dirt path that ran around the community. Most people were tucked in for the night, but a few folks were still milling about, and they were mostly friendly, greeting the new guests with a quick hello, but respecting their privacy.

"What do you think of this place?" he asked as they strolled along.

"I'm impressed. They got a lot right."

" _Well, you know it takes a lot of work to have a place this nice_ …" Rick said in a mocking voice.

She looked at him for a moment with wide eyes then began to laugh quietly.

"God, I had to bite my tongue," she said shaking her head at the recent memory.

"Me too."

"This place is nice, but I'm partial to my hardwood floors, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances," she said with an unapologetic shrug. "Honestly, if I could merge the two, I would. Their location, numbers, and resources with our infrastructure would be ideal."

"We're on our way," he said assuredly as he walked alongside her. "We haven't figured out what our strength is yet, but we will."

She came to a stop on a portion of the path that was bordered by a steep drop off leading down to the wall, but he walked ahead a few more steps before he realized he had lost his partner. He turned back to find her looking at him, an almost dazed look on her face.

"You mean that?" she asked. It was the most positive, hopeful statement she'd ever heard him make about Alexandria, and she wanted to make sure that she wasn't misunderstanding him.

"Of course I do," he replied in earnest as he walked back to her.

"What about you? What do you think of this place?"

"It's solid," he admitted.

"You can be honest."

"I am. Like you said, they got a lot right," he agreed. "Gregory? He's strikes me, and I'm pretty sure you, as an asshole," he said with a laugh that grew a little louder when she nodded her head affirmatively, "but I think he's being upfront about the desire to trade and the Negan situation."

"I agree."

"Problem is, we don't have the material resources to do that. Not yet."

"Well, if Eugene can make good on the munitions production, that would be key."

He agreed that it was the ideal plan for the future, but it was nothing they could bank on now. He had his own ideas, but wasn't sure how she would take them.

"There's something else we can offer them in the meantime, though."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Protection," he said simply, noting immediately that the idea was not met with enthusiasm on her behalf. "These people are untrained, they don't know how to fight."

"So we'd send our people here to provide security? It's one thing to ask them to fight for their home, but for someone else's?"

"But it is for us, Michonne." He leaned in closer to catch her eye and placed his hand on her upper arm, partly for emphasis and partly to make sure that she stayed to hear him out. "We have something special, something worth protecting. So does this place. If there's someone out there threatening to take that away from us, we have to face it. If we all band together, I think we can."

"We've been looking for you two."

He stood to locate the origin of the voice and let his hand slide off of her arm. He saw Glenn and Maggie walking hand-in-hand up the path from behind Michonne.

"Hey," Rick called out to them. "Yeah, we were just taking this place in."

They stopped and gave their friends a smile as they joined them, then turned out to look beyond the wall. The night was cloaked in darkness, but the silvery light of the nearly full moon shone down upon the trees below and the open sky was dotted with hundreds of tiny sparkling lights.

"Incredible view, isn't it?" Maggie asked almost dreamily as she looked up at the sky.

Rick took a moment to take a look at the view himself which was indeed lovely, but difficult to enjoy at this moment as he began to feel uneasy about their visit since they were supposed to be fast asleep by now.

"It is. Everything OK?" he asked as he turned to look at them.

"Yeah, there's just something we, uh, wanted to talk to you about," Glenn admitted.

He lifted their clasped hands, and covered hers with his free hand then looked down at her. She looked up, smiling back, then gave him a nod. Michonne let out a small gasp as she instinctively brought her hand to her mouth. She knew exactly what this was, and she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears of joy for her friends. Glenn looked back at Rick and Michonne, pausing to smile, before he made their announcement.

"Maggie's pregnant. We're having a baby."

Michonne dropped her hand from her mouth and stepped toward Maggie with open arms, wrapping her into a tight embrace as she whispered her congratulations in her ear. Rick stepped closer to Glenn, and stretched out his hand for a handshake before pulling him into a loose hug.

"Congratulations," he said with a smile, genuinely happy for one of his oldest and dearest friends left in this world.

"Do you know how far along?" Michonne asked as she pulled away from Maggie, and slid in front of Rick to given Glenn a quick hug.

"Probably two to three months? I made an appointment to see their doctor tomorrow morning before we leave."

"He's a trained surgeon," Glenn added. "Jesus mentioned that they've had a few pregnancies here already, all delivered safely."

Rick and Michonne exchanged a quick glance, both sensing that this was more than just a celebratory visit.

"We can send Denise to train with him," Michonne offered immediately.

"You should, for the future, because she'll need to know, but we can't take that chance," he said as looked down at Maggie.

"I understand," Michonne assured them.

"Is this permanent?" Rick asked.

"We don't know," Glenn answered honestly.

"You're still family," Maggie stressed, trying to regain some of the joy that they'd lost. "No matter what, we're gonna be in each other's lives, even if we're not right next door…" She looked pointedly at Michonne and reached out for her hand. "This isn't goodbye yet. We're comin' home to get things in order first, so let's not do this now," she said as she blinked back tears despite her hopeful sentiment.

"You're right," Michonne said as she squeezed Maggie's hand in hers. "I'm so happy for two. You're going to be amazing parents," she finished as she began to blink back tears of her own.

"Thank you," Maggie whispered back.

"We haven't told anyone else about the plans or the pregnancy. It was important to us that you know first, and as soon as possible so you can take it into consideration while you're working things out," Glenn said.

"I appreciate that. We'll keep this between us until you're ready," Rick assured them.

"Well, I think we're going to go to bed for real this time," Maggie joked. "We'll let you get back to your night. See you tomorrow at breakfast?"

"Yeah," Rick said warmly. "We'll see you then. Good night."

Rick and Michonne quietly watched them turn and start to make their way back to the main building, still a bit stunned not so much by the news of the pregnancy, but that they would be losing two of their people. Once they were far enough away, Rick sighed and glanced down at Michonne. She looked his way, trying to offer up at least a sad smile, but the tears in her eyes gave her away. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side with no resistance on her part. Instead she let her head rest against his chest and wrapped one arm around his lower back and let the palm of her other hand rest against his toned belly. He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her head, quietly remaining in their embrace while he looked out over the walls of Hilltop for a few moments.

"I don't know if she or Carl ever told you," he started in a soft voice, "but she was there for Judith's birth. She had to…" he hesitated as he recalled that day, "make the cut. Lori insisted, and she honored that wish. With what she's seen and done for my family, they have nothing but my blessing. It's gonna hurt like hell to lose them, but they don't have a choice…"

"No, they don't. Not when it comes to your child," she murmured into his chest.

 _Your child._ She came to them alone, but of course she belonged to someone or had someone who belonged to her at one point. And as time went on, his suspicion that the someone was a child grew. Based on interactions with his children, her priorities, her heart; he knew what it was, but he didn't know the details. He always figured she would tell him in her own time, and never imagined crossing that line until tonight.

"You know that first hand, don't you?" he asked gently.

He could feel her tense briefly against him before pulling her head away from his chest so that she could face him. When he saw her face, she wasn't surprised or upset. The tears had stopped, and she seemed almost serene.

"Yes," she said softly. "I lost my son and his father early on...I went on a run, and when I came back to our camp, it was already over."

His mind flashed back to the moment a few weeks earlier when he came into his battered community to find his children safe in his home with this woman. It was the same situation, but it played out differently for each of them through no action or fault of their own.

"What was his name?"

"Andre," she said with a soft smile. "He was almost three...Mike was his father's name. It was just the three of us, me and my boys," she added wistfully before breaking eye contact for a moment while she looked out over the walls.

"I have no doubt that you did everything you could for them," he offered as he looked at her, his arm still loosely slung around her shoulder. She looked back at him, and nodded lightly.

"I didn't believe that for a long time; it's only in the past few months that I started to accept that. Everyday it gets a little easier."

"I can tell. The person that I met at the fence that first day compared to the one standing next to me right now…" he shook his head, truly amazed by the transformation he'd seen her go through over the past year.

She had kept this part of herself from him for so long, and in this moment, she couldn't understand why because it felt so easy and right to share it with him. At another time, perhaps it would have been different; marked by tears and angst. Today, she felt nothing but relief and acceptance. She leaned back into him, allowing herself to physically feel as close to this man as she did emotionally. They stood there making up for all of the times she wanted to reach out, but couldn't either due to her own constraints or those beyond her control, and she imagined he was doing the same.

"I wouldn't have taken my chances standing this close to you back then…"

"Yeah, I wouldn't have let you," she deadpanned. She smiled as she felt his chest heave with a silent laugh.

"I'm happy for you, Michonne," he said as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm. "You deserve this-everything. The recognition, the respect, community, family…"

She tilted her head up to look at him, offering a small appreciative smile.

"You do, too, Rick. It feels good," she admitted. "I want that for you, as well."

He closed his eyes for a moment, considering what it would feel like to be whole again, to allow himself to move forward. He would never forget the past, but he could finally take that step from just being able to function again to actually accepting it and living. He opened his eyes to find her still holding his gaze, holding him to a response. There was no need to force his hand, though, because he'd already made up his mind. He wanted to be on the other side of his pain. He wanted to be where she was.

"I do, too. I'm almost there."


	12. Chapter 12

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was met with complete darkness, so much so that she blinked several times to make sure that she had actually opened her eyes and wasn't just dreaming. Her heart started to race, and the feeling of disorientation set in as she sat up in bed. There were no windows in the small, narrow room, and no familiar decorations or landmarks that helped make sense of her surroundings. She was in a bed pushed against a bare brick wall, still dressed in her own clothes, with a light sheet thrown over her legs. She uncovered herself, and moved to get up when it finally clicked. She lowered herself back into bed, and turned onto her side.

"Rick," she whispered as she grazed the back of his head with her hand.

His shoulders rose sharply as she startled him out of his sleep with her touch. He sat on the the floor with his legs extended in front of him, his back against the side of the bed, and his head leaned back against it. After taking a moment to come to, he turned to to face her.

"What are you doing down there?"

He brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger then pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fell asleep while we were talking, I guess."

"I was lost when I woke up. Thought I was back at the prison for a minute…"

He chuckled to himself as he looked around the small, confined, no frills space. The living quarters at Hilltop didn't come close to the promise of the grand building's exterior and main lobby area, so he could understand her confusion.

"Well, I can think of worse places to be."

"True…" she agreed, her voice still hushed even though they were the only ones in the room. Despite living in a cell, she had nothing but fond memories of that place until the end. It was the first place she had called home in a long time thanks to the man sitting in front of her.

"Come on," she said patting the bed. He looked at her with genuine surprise on his face then stalled. "Then you take the bed for the rest of the night, and I'll take the floor," she said, noting his hesitation.

She propped herself up on her elbow, and began to move before he stopped her.

"It's fine. I'm good here, you stay put."

"Rick…"

"Really," he assured her, and he truly didn't mind having slept in less ideal places or just forgoing sleep all together.

She nodded her head, and lowered herself onto her back feeling slightly awkward with his reaction. They were nothing if not practical people. Two people, one room, one double bed; sharing made sense, but she wondered if there was confusion about her intentions. Earlier that evening, they had shared parts of themselves that they hadn't before and allowed themselves to connect with each other in new ways, and perhaps he was keeping his distance for a reason.

She lifted one arm over her head and laid it across the pillow, while the other rested on her belly then closed her eyes again, and tried to get back to sleep, but found it difficult. She started to drift off after a few minutes, only to be roused by the feel of a dip in the mattress beside her and the creaking sound of the springs. She opened her eyes, but didn't look over to see her new sleeping partner. She could feel him ease the entire length of his body onto the mattress as he extended his legs and folded his hands across his belly. He sighed quietly as he rested his head on the pillow beside her.

"Better?" she whispered, still on her back with her eyes closed.

"Much," he answered, surprised that she wasn't asleep yet. "I think it's more comfortable than my bed, actually."

"Really? Not mine. I have one of those down mattress toppers, I figured all of the beds in the house did."

"Nope. You got the fanciest room in the house, maybe even the world."

"Guess so," she said followed by a small chuckle.

"What?" he asked. He wanted to turn to face her, but he was acutely aware of her close proximity and stayed as is, each of them focused on the ceiling.

"Nothing..."

"Don't do that," he chided in his ragged-edge drawl.

"I was going to say that it's like sleeping on a cloud...but I didn't want to rub it in," she said as she bit her lip in guilt.

"You thought right," he agreed dryly.

"I know. I'm sorry. Forget I ever said anything..."

He turned his head on his pillow, unable to keep himself from looking over at her to see the face that matched the playfulness in her voice. He took in her profile: eyes squinted shut in quiet laughter, then down the slope of her nose to her lush lips framing her lovely smile.

"Well, how am I supposed to do that now that I know what I'm missing out on?"

She turned her head at his question to find him looking at her, his blue eyes boring into hers and a serious expression that caused her cheeks to warm and pulse to quicken. She watched him for a moment, unsure of whether he was issuing a challenge or just trying to get a rise out of her as he'd been inclined to do lately. The more distressing part, though, was how she wanted to answer regardless of what his intentions were. She couldn't deny how good it felt to be in his arms earlier that evening and how dangerous it felt to be laying this close to him now that he was actually here. It seemed like the most natural, yet unnatural, thing to just place her hand on his cheek, close the small distance between them, and press her lips to his. It was a desire that she'd never felt for him until the past few days, and it was quickly becoming difficult to ignore. As she finally opened her mouth to answer him, she saw the corner of his lips begin to lift in an inscrutable smile.

"I'm willing to share…" she responded in a hushed voice, matching his vague answer with one of her own, one she wasn't even sure she understood.

His smile faded, and he exhaled a stacatto breath that might have even been a laugh. His gaze never wavered, though, as he gave a short nod while considering her offer. They were venturing into unknown territory with each other, speaking and behaving in ways they never had before, and she could feel that tension, that urge to go further, but she couldn't take that step, and wasn't sure whether his own reluctance was out of fear or disinterest, but either way, it was over for tonight.

"What time is it?" she asked as he eyes travelled down to where his hands rested in his belly.

He lifted his left wrist in front of his face, and squinted to read the time.

"Half past three."

"We need to get some sleep."

"Yeah."

"Night, Rick."

"Good night, Michonne."

He turned his head facing forward again, and returned his hand to his belly, this time interlocking his fingers in a tight grip with each other before shutting his eyes. She turned her head, as well, and pulled the sheet tighter around her before closing her eyes to get a few more hours of sleep before the sun came up and a new day began.

xxxx

 **One Week Later**

"Hey Lady."

Michonne looked up from slicing a bunch of radishes that had been included in their haul from Hilltop the week before to find Rosita standing at her side.

"Hey."

"How's it going?" she asked as she took a sip of her drink while watching Michonne slice thin discs from the radishes.

"It's going...just replenishing the veggie tray. How about with you?"

"Just enjoying myself..." she answered in her typical laconic way. "This party's much more my speed than the last one."

Michonne paused for a moment to look out beyond her kitchen island at the party taking place in her home. It was the first gathering in the community since their welcome party, and ironically enough, it was a going away party for two of their own. It all looked the same to her as she'd followed Deanna's model to a T. Low music played in the background, there was a buffet table with food, a stocked bar table, and people were mingling about her living and dining room.

"Really? I can't tell," she said as she resumed slicing the radishes.

"Well, the music's better," Rosita noted with a shrug.

"Yeah, I had nothing to do with that," she said with a grin. "Carl and Tara put together the playlist."

"My man," Rosita said with a proud smile. "I'll have to let him know..."

She sought him out in the crowd, finding him seated at the dining table with Tara, Dev, Eugene, and Enid where they were dealing cards for a game, likely poker knowing her friends. She smiled at seeing Carl interact with them since she'd gotten to know him a bit better after his injury. She had shared long shifts with Denise while he was unconscious, then saw him at least a couple times a week thereafter for his follow up visits and wound checks.

"Isn't it funny how much things have changed since we got here?" she asked as she returned her attention to Michonne. "I think I said all of two words to you and Carl out on the road."

"I'd say that everything we just went through brought us closer together, but it's not any different than what we faced together out on the road."

"I think it's this place. Having a home, seeing each other as friends and neighbors instead of just fellow warriors."

Michonne finished her task and looked up at Rosita, giving her a warm smile.

"I think you're right."

She looked out at the room, as she thought of what Rosita said. She could name every person in the room unlike at the last party. There was, unfortunately, far fewer of them, but the sense of community was real for her now. This was home, and they were all her people. Her eyes drifted to the group gathered around her coffee table; Glenn and Maggie shared the oversized upholstered chair that was adjacent to the couch where Rick sat with Judith in his lap.

"Ugh, I'm gonna miss them," Rosita announced, apparently focused on the same group of people.

"Me too."

"Glenn brought us into the fold, and Maggie...she's become one of my best friends."

"I feel like she's everyone's best friend," Michonne said with a small laugh. Outside of the Grimes boys, Maggie had been her closest friend. She just had that warmth and openness with everyone around her; she was a rock for the group in her own quiet way.

"Yeah, well, she's gonna leave a huge void, and there's only so much girl talk Tara can take before she shuts down on me," Rosita said as she turned to face Michonne, leaning her hip against the counter. "So if I'm knocking at your door more often, I'm sorry."

She and Michonne shared a laugh, and Michonne shook her head.

"Fine by me."

"Speaking of," she said as she pulled a small brown bag out of the inside pocket of her blazer. "Abe said you might need these."

Michonne cautiously accepted the bag from her, unfolded it, and opened it to find several unmistakable small shiny, metallic packages in it. She wrapped the bag back up and clutched it in her hand, out of everyone else's view.

"What the hell is this?" she whispered harshly.

Rosita's face fell, feeling like she'd overstepped her bounds, though, she was only trying to be helpful by snagging a small supply from the clinic.

"He said you and Rick shared a room when you were at Hilltop, and showed up to breakfast together the next morning," she explained.

"Did he also tell you there were only three rooms?" Michonne asked as she softened her tone. "And that Glenn and Maggie took one leaving me to room with either Rick, Daryl, or him?"

"No, he did not…" she muttered as she found him on the crowd and shot daggers at the back of his head. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Michonne said, now genuinely amused by the situation since no harm was meant or done. "By his logic, though, you may want to ask what's up with him and Daryl," she added with a mischievous grin.

"I'll do that," she said as she turned to head back into the party.

Michonne picked up the bowl of radishes, and left the kitchen to drop them off at the buffet table. On her way there, she noticed that she was going to pass right by the meddlesome ginger, and couldn't pass up the opportunity to pay him back. She tucked her middle finger behind her thumb and lifted it above his shoulder as she passed then let it rip, flicking the back of his ear.

"You old biddy… " she mumbled under her breath as she walked by.

"What'd you do that for?" he called after her as he lifted his glass of whiskey on the rocks to his stinging ear.

"You know," she said without looking at him while she placed bowl on the buffet table then kept on walking.

"I'm only lookin' out for you, sweetheart," he called after her with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and smiled as she went off to say hi to some of the guests who had trickled in while she was in the kitchen.

xxxx

"Not to talk shop, but what time do you want to head out tomorrow?" Rick asked as he set his plate of crackers and raw vegetables down on the coffee table then released the wriggling toddler from his lap and stood her on the floor in front of him.

"First light? Same as last time?" Maggie suggested as she looked to Glenn who nodded in agreement.

"Works for me. I'll let Daryl and Carol know."

He would be dropping them off for good at Hilltop the following day. Daryl was coming along as back up, and Carol was joining them since she'd missed out on the first trip.

He glanced down at his daughter who was edging around the coffee table, banging her open palms against it as she walked around it. He smiled as she happily went about her business then looked up at Glenn and Maggie who were doing the same.

"This will be you soon," he said with a grin.

"Looking forward to it," Glenn said with a smile.

Just as soon as he said it, though, Judith's hand hit Rick's plate sending it flying and its contents scattering across the floor. She looked up at him, eyes wide knowing she'd made a mess, but he smiled back and she carried on. Rick shook his head at his daughter's impeccable timing and looked up at them as he gathered the food off the floor.

"Still?"

"Still," Maggie said as she rubbed her hand against her non-existent belly and beamed.

He set the plate back in the middle of the table and grabbed his drink before leaning back into his couch.

"Hey! There she is!"

Rick looked up at Maggie's exclamation to find Michonne walking up to join them.

"You've been so busy, I didn't think we were ever going to get to see you," she said.

Michonne eased herself into the couch just next to Rick and smiled.

"I've been trying to make my way over to you all night, just kept getting distracted," she apologized.

"Well, thank you for doing this," Glenn said to Michonne before looking at Rick, as well. "Both of you. It means a lot to have everyone together one last time."

"Of course. We wouldn't have it any other way," she assured him.

"Glenn! Maggie!"

They looked up to find Tara calling them over to the table. The group had grown from just her, Eugene, Carl, Dev, and Enid to now include Rosita, Abraham, Aaron, Eric, and Heath.

"One last game before you go!" she called out as she held up the cards.

With all of those faces looking at them, they had no choice but to say yes, so they apologized to their hosts and joined the large group in the dining room.

Michonne leaned forward to steal a carrot stick from his plate, but froze when he nudged her knee with his hand.

"Those have been on the floor," he warned her.

"We're not past that?" she asked since they'd eaten far worse in their time together.

"I can't not tell you. Do what you want, I won't judge."

She slowly returned the carrot stick to the plate and sunk back into the couch next to him.

He offered her his drink in exchange, and she gladly accepted it, taking a sip of the sweet tea in his glass before returning it.

"You need help with anything else?"

"No. Everything's out, so if it goes, that's it," she said with a shrug.

Their food supplies were back up thanks to their first offering from Hilltop, so they could spare enough for a modest celebration, but no more than that.

"You figure out what time you're leaving tomorrow?" she asked.

"Sun up, so I'll need to get the RV in order after the party clears out."

"You can head out early, I'm sure everyone would understand."

He looked down to find his daughter pulling on his pant leg, and reached down to pull her into his lap.

"Nah, I want to stay and hang out since I'll be away for a few days," he said as he pressed a kiss on top of his daughter's head.

Michonne smiled at him and Judith, enjoying the quiet moment in the midst of the party.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you how nice you look tonight," he said quietly as he nodded at the simple black dress she wore.

Michonne tilted her head and paused for a moment, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. She was surprised at how much she liked hearing those words coming out of his mouth.

"Thanks," she said as she looked down and smoothed her hand over the dress where it draped across her legs.

"You OK?" Rick asked looking over her shoulder.

She turned to see Carl standing there with a grimace on his face.

"I just had to walk away. All the noise over there was giving me a headache."

"You wanna sit over here with us for a bit?" she asked knowing that he was still sensitive to sound and light, and prone to migraines since his accident. "You can go upstairs, too, if you need to."

"I'll just stay here," he said as he walked over to the chair Maggie and Glenn had vacated, and sat down. His focus remained on the game, though, from afar.

"How was it going over there?" his father asked.

"I had a straight when I left. I was gonna ask Abe to play my hand until I came back, but then I gave them to Dev. I just had a funny feeling about Abe."

"You're right to," Michonne scoffed. "Dev will play fair," she assured him.

Silence fell over the group as Carl watched Dev like a hawk from his spot. Michonne looked down to see Judith nodding off in Rick's lap despite all of the noise and smiled, then she glanced up at Rick to let him know by mouthing _She's out_. He grinned back and smoothed his hand over his daughter's golden curls as he joined his son in spectating the lively poker game.

Even without talking or doing anything in particular, this was a perfect moment. These three in front of her were her heart, and these were the moments worth living for.

xxxx

"Hey."

Rick looked up from the place where he was kneeling in the cab of the RV to see Michonne closing the door behind her and stepping up into the middle of the living area. He closed the glovebox and stood to greet her.

"Hey."

"I just wanted to check in on you. See if you needed any help," she said as she looked around to see cabinets open and supplies sitting on the empty seats waiting to be placed in them.

"Nah, I'm almost set," he said as he rested his forearm on the headrest of the driver's seat and leaned against it.

"You sure? It's late and you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I'm sure," he said immediately with a grateful grin. He looked at her, still dressed in her black party dress, but now with a grey shawl wrapped around her shoulders that she was clutching with both hands to keep it in place and shield her from the night chill. He hesitated for a moment before changing his mind. "I'll tell you what, though, you can sit right there and keep me company," he said nodding toward the table in the middle of the RV which was the only empty space available.

"I can do that."

The house was already cleaned up and the kids were in bed, so she gladly walked over to the table and turned around, placed both hands on the edge, then hopped onto it, leaving her hands in place and her legs dangling over the edge.

"I cleared a little space up front here for your chickens," he said with a grin as he pointed to the empty floorboard in front of the passenger's seat.

"They're the _community's_ chickens, not mine," she reminded him with slight annoyance, though the thought of the two chickens Hilltop had agreed to give them riding back in the front seat with Rick tickled her beyond belief.

He shrugged, unconvinced that was actually the case considering how invested she was in these animals, then walked towards the center of the RV to join her and work on putting the supplies away.

"When we're having omelettes and scrambled eggs regularly," she said to his back as he turned to place some canned goods in the small kitchen cabinet. "I doubt you'll still be calling them my chickens."

"Maybe so." He closed the cabinet and walked to the bench seat beside her to gather the next handful of canned goods. "Anything else you can think of that we need while I'm there?" he asked looking up at her before he turned away.

"I think we're all set."

"Any messages you need me to pass on to Jesus? Better yet, should I just bring him back for you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, please…" she purred as she looked him dead in the eye, giving as good as she got. He huffed out a laugh, shook his head, and walked away. "Hey, you asked."

"You're obsessed with that guy," he said while rearranging the cabinet in front of her.

"Because he's awesome. You know it, too."

Jesus had quickly earned her trust and admiration in their short trip to Hilltop which wasn't an easy feat. He was smart, fair, and motivated to create a working relationship that would benefit both communities equally. The fact that this all came by way of a handsome man with a quirky sense of humor made it impossible not to like him.

"You know, I've been thinking about getting one of those things, too," he said as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head while he turned around.

She tilted her head and looked at him rubbing his head, absolutely perplexed by what he was referring to.

"What?"

"One of those things," he reiterated while pointing to the back of his head again with more emphasis.

Her face contorted in confusion as she thought back to the first time she met Jesus with his full beard and long straight brown hair which was covered with a blue knit cap.

"A beanie?" she guessed as she started to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation.

"No," he groaned with growing exasperation which only made her start to laugh harder, "like a…"

He trailed off as the word eluded him, then made a fist and planted it at the back of his head.

"What are you…" She continued laughing as she searched her memory again before it finally hit her. The morning they left, Jesus had worn his long hair in a knot high on his head. "A bun?"

"Yeah," he said with a grin, genuinely pleased that they'd found the right word, but even more so with her reaction as she wiped at her eyes and her chest heaved with laughter.

"Oh my god, I can't breath," she managed to get out as she gasped for breaths during her laughing fit. "Rick…"

"What?" he asked with feigned cluelessness as he stepped in front of where she sat.

Her laughing slowed, and she tilted her head as she took in the face in front of her. He was still dressed in the clean, light blue button down he'd worn to the party which happened to compliment his impossibly blue eyes. His face was relaxed, and his smile was wide. He looked as handsome as he ever had to her in that moment.

"It's a good look on Jesus, but I don't know if it's right for you…"

"We'll see…"

"You've got a look," she said with a grin. He furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes at her claim. "You do...those unruly curls that you try to keep tucked behind your ears, this scruffy mess," she continued as she reached up and stroked his bearded chin between her thumb and forefinger, "your button down shirts…" She let her hand fall to his shoulder and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "It's all very Rick Grimes," she finished with a smile.

He glanced down at her hand resting on his shoulder then back up at her smiling face, feeling a little dazed receiving this kind of attention from her.

"I thought you didn't care for the beard…" he said almost shyly as he looked back up at her.

"Turns out I do," she said with a slight shrug. "Very much so…" she added as she continued to toy with his collar.

As she stared back at him with a soft smile on her face, he lifted his left hand to her face and cradled it, letting his thumb graze gently along her smooth, high cheek bone. He leaned in and pressed a slow, gentle kiss onto her closed, but supple lips then pulled away and opened his eyes to find her looking back at him. Her soft smile returned, much to his relief, then she moved the hand resting on his shoulder up the back of his neck, letting it rest at the nape. She gently pulled him toward her as she moved her face towards his then pressed her lips to his, this time with more intensity. He brought his other hand to her face, steadying their heads as their kisses grew deeper and more passionate until they broke away, resting their foreheads against each other as they took a moment to let their minds catch up with their bodies.

"So it's not just me?" he asked breathlessly.

"No…"

He turned his head and lowered it into the crook of her neck, letting it rest there as he reeled from her answer. Everything he'd been feeling for her lately, she felt, too. He could feel her hands moving along his shoulders to his back then encircling him in a tight embrace. He nuzzled into into her neck more, his nose landing in the hollow just above her collarbone, and inhaled deeply. Her clean scent and the faint trace of perfume still lingering from earlier that evening filled his senses, making him feel headier than he already did.

He kissed her collarbone then turned his face into her and pressed his lips to the base of her neck. She tilted her neck to give him greater access, and he took her suggestion as he began slowly moving up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he finally found his way back to her lips. By the time he did, she was overwhelmed by the urge to be closer to him, to be completely consumed with him. Their kisses were hurried and passionate, and she pulled him as close to her as possible, drawing him tighter into her embrace as she parted her legs so that he could move into the space flush against the table.

She ran her hands down his back then to his sides where they rested for a moment before she found herself clutching at the material of his shirt, untucking it from his jeans then letting her hands run under the material along the ridges of his toned stomach.

His hands wandered her body, as well, falling from her face to her shoulders then trailing over the slopes of her breasts, and along the lithe lines of her chest into the narrowing of her waist, and down to the tops of her thighs. Emboldened by the feel of her hands running over his bare skin, he allowed his hands to slide under her little black dress and along the tops of her thighs causing her to moan into his mouth when he grasped her hips in his hands, his thumbs pressed into her hip bones, and pulled her closer into him.

They were at the threshold of crossing the line, and as much as he wanted to, he slowed their kiss and bowed his head for a moment before looking up to meet her eyes. They were hooded with desire, but clear. She looked toward the back of the RV to the foot of the bed that could be seen through the open door. He followed her eyes, and came to the same conclusion.

"I've got the only set of keys," he whispered into her ear before letting his lips brush against her cheek while he pulled back to look at her.

She gave him a slight grin and nodded in agreement as she let her hand drop to the back pockets of his jeans where she fished out said keys. She kept her eyes locked with his and she bought her hand in between them. He took the keys from her, and she watched as he walked up to the cab to make sure the doors were locked then pulled the curtains to block the view of anyone walking past. He then walked over to the door nearest to them on the middle of the RV and slid the latch across and locked the deadbolt before turning to find her still sitting on the table watching his every move quietly.

He walked over to her and reached around her to place the keys on the table then took her hands in his and helped her off of the table. They quietly walked back to the small bedroom and shut the door behind them. His desire for her hadn't subsided at all, but after the short break in their action, as he stood face to face with her, he was struck by the significance of what they were about to do. It was the first time in a long time for both of them, the first time since being with their respective significant others, and their first time. It was a moment that would change their relationship forever, but he wasn't afraid; instead he only wanted to ensure that they cherish this moment.

He gave her a small smile as he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand before reaching behind her to pull her dreads to one side letting them cascade over her shoulder. As he sought out the zipper on the back of her dress, she began to slowly unbutton his shirt, starting at his chest and working her way down.

He took the straps of her dress in his hands, and slowly began to strip it from her body revealing her ample breasts encased by a black lace bra then her firm stomach, matching black panties, and her toned, athletic thighs. He was kneeling before her, holding the dress that was now pooled around her ankles, so that she could step out of it. He then stood slowly with the dress in his hand, taking in the view in reverse now. He stepped away to drape her dress across the chair behind him, and took his place in front of her again. She wasted no time in slipping his unbuttoned off of his shoulders and letting her hands run down his muscular arms as she pushed it off of him. Then hooked her finger into the front of his jeans and backed up to the foot of the bed where she sat at the edge, eye level with his waist, and began to unbutton his jeans then lower the zipper. She placed her hands at the sides, and began to push his jeans down, along with his light blue boxers, getting them to his knees before placed his hands on her shoulders as he finished stepping out of them himself. He gently pushed her back on the bed as he climbed on, coming to rest on his bent knees while straddling her waist. He lowered himself onto her nearly naked body and captured her mouth in his, once again, with a deep, languid kiss.

With the luxury of time and privacy on their side, they slowly explored each other; eyes, hands, and lips becoming acquainted with the parts of each other they'd never seen before he finally entered her. They worked in unison, focusing on each other and their mounting pleasure, until she came closely followed by him. It was slow, tender, and almost reverent, in a way, as their respect and adoration for each other manifested itself in this physical act.

They quietly laid face to face afterwards, sharing one pillow, as their bodies were pressed together. Rick reached down to bring the blanket over them; they certainly couldn't spend the night there, but he was hoping for at least a little more time with her before they had to go home. He draped his arm over her waist, leaving his fingers to trace lazy circles over the small of her back.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to look at this thing the same way again," she said with a moony grin, and absolutely no remorse.

"No kidding. And you don't even have to spend all day in it tomorrow."

"It's not a bad little place, though…" she said as she allowed her eyes to glance around the space. It was an RV, sure, but they were on a bed, in a room with a door. She could think of worse places to be.

"About as private as it gets around here. We should keep it in mind...if, you know…" He cut himself off, feeling awkward for presuming that they would be doing this again without explicitly knowing her feelings on the matter. She picked up on his hesitance and smiled warmly.

"I've loved spending time with you the past couple of weeks. Working together, laughing together, just talking, getting closer," she assured him as she brought her hand up to his cheek.

"So have I," he said as he exhaled slightly, relieved to hear her confirm what he'd been feeling, as well. "I've been happy, for the first time in a long time. I can't imagine life being this way-"

"But it is this way. All of these things we're doing and feeling, they're real."

"This is what life looks like now," he repeated as her words began to resonate with him.

"It is," she whispered with a small smile. "And it's everything that I could want."

"It's more," he said with a nod as he stared into her eyes. "It's more than I thought I could ever have again, or even deserved, but it's what I want, too."

She smiled widely at his admission and acceptance of their future. Their life would never be without struggle, but they would be united, and provide each other the support to carry on, and the love and happiness that made it worth it.

The End.

 **A/N: I wanted to let you all know that this was my final fic-I'm stepping away from writing (quitting just sounds bad even if it is true). Thank you to those readers who were there for my first fic, those of you here for my last, and everyone in between. It's been a great year, and I've enjoyed becoming a part of this community. I look forward to sitting back, relaxing, and enjoying 6B and beyond. This is our year. :)**

 **Also, anyone looking for a great spot to interact with fellow Richonners, I highly recommend checking out** _ **tellittothedead dot com**_ **. You're very likely to run into some familiar faces there...**


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